









■H 



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Copyright N°.JL3Ai__ 

CflEXRIGHT DSPOSm 






His Maje$ v Bunker Bean 

3y LEE WILSON DODD 




SAMUEL FRENCH, 2d-30 West 38th St, New York 



The Touch-Down 

A comedy in four acts, by Marion Short. 8 males, 6 females, bat 
any number of characters can be introduced in the ensembles. Cos- 
tumes modern. One interior scene throughout the play. Time, 2& 
hours. 

This play, written for the use of clever amateurs, is the story of 
life in Siddell, a Pennsylvania co-educational college. It deals with 
the vicissitudes and final triumph of the Siddell Football Eleven, and 
the humorous and dramatic incidents connected therewith. 

•The Touch-Down" has the true varsity atmosphere, college songs 
are sung, and the piece is lively and entertaining throughout. High 
schools will make no mistaks in producing this play. We strongly 
recommend it a* a high-class and well-written comedy. 

Price, 30 Cents, 

Hurry, Hurry, Hurry 

A comedy in three acts, by LeRoy Arnold. 5 males, 4 females. 
One interior scene. Costumes modern. Plays 2 $4 hours. 

The story is based on the will of an eccentric aunt. It stipulates 
that her pretty niece must be affianced before she is twenty-one, and 
married to her fiance within a year, if she is to get her spinster 
relative's million. Father has nice notions of honor and fails to tell 
daughter about the will, so that she may make her choice untram- 
mcled by any other consideration than that of true love. The action 
all takes place in the evening the midnight of which will see her 
reach twenty-one. Time is therefore short, and it is hurry, hurry, 
hurry, if she is to become engaged and thus save her father from 
impending bankruptcy. 

The situations are intrinsically funny and the dialogue is sprightly. 
The characters are natural and unaffected and the action moves with 
a snap such as should be expected from its title. Price, 30 Cents. 

The Varsity Coach 

A three-act play of college life, by Marion Short, specially adapted 
to performance by amateurs or high school students. 5 males 6 
females, but any number of boys and girls may be introduced in the 
action of the play. Two settings necessary, a college boy's room and 
the university campus. Time, about 2 hours. 

Like many another college boy, "Bob" Selby, an all-round popular 
college man, becomes possessed of the idea that athletic prowess is 
more to be desired than scholarship. He is surprised in the midst of 
a "spread" in his room in Regatta week by a visit from his aunt 
who is putting hwn through college. Aunt Serena, "a lady of the old 
school and the dearest little woman in the whole world," has hastened 
to make this visit to her adored nephew under the mistaken impression 
that he is about to receive the Fellowes prize for scholarship. Her 
grief and chagrin when she learns that instead of the prize Robert 
has received "a pink card," which is equivalent to suspension for poor 
scholarship, gives a touch of pathos to an otherwise jolly comedy of 
so il ag e Hfe. How the repentant Robert more than redeems himself, 
carries off honors at the last, and in the end wins Ruth, the faithful 
little sweetheart of the "Prom" and the classroom, makes a story of 
dramatic interest and brings out very clearly certain phases of modern 

" f e life. There are several opportunities for the introduction of 
x*gs and "stants." Price, 30 Cents. 

(Tto Abovs Art 8ubJoct to Royalty When Produoad) 
SAMUEL FRENCH. 39-30 West 38th Street, New Yof* City 

tow art Expttrt Btscriptfvi Catalogui Mallod Frit is Rtqmi 



His Majesty Bunker '*m 
Bean 

A COMEDY IN FOUR ACTS AND 
FIFE SCENES 

BY 

LEE WILSON DODD 

From the Novel by Harry Leon Wilson 



Copyright, 1922, by Samuel French 

CAUTION. — Professionals and amateurs are hereby warned 
that "HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN," being fully 
protected under the copyright laws of the United States, 
Great Britain and the Dominion of Canada, is subject to 
a royalty, and any one presenting the play without the 
consent of the author or his authorized agents will be 
liable to the penalties by law provided. Applications for 
the amateur acting rights must be made to Samuel French, 
28-30 West 38th Street, New York. Applications for the 
professional acting rights must be made to Miss Alice 
Kauser, 1402 Broadway, New York. 



New York 

SAMUEL FRENCH 

Publisher 

28-30 West 38th Street 



London 

SAMUEL FRENCH, Ltd. 

26 Southampton Street 

STRAND 






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HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

was produced at the Astor Theatre, New York, 
Monday, October 2, 1916, with the following cast: 

Pops Charles Abbe 

Bulger Jack Devereaux 

Larabee , Horace Mitchell 

The Flapper Florence Shirley 

Mason John Hogan 

Bunker Bean , Taylor Holmes 

The Waster Harry C. Power 

Mops Marion Kerby 

The Big Sister Clara Louise Moores 

Grandma, The Demon Lillian Lawrence 

The Countess Grace Peters 

Maid Annette Westbay 

Balthazar , Walter Sherwin 

The Greatest Left-handed Pitcher the World 

Has Ever Known Robert Kelly 

Janitor George C. Lyman 

The Lizzie Boy Belfort Forrest 

Louis , George O'Rourke 

The Very Young Minister John Hogan 



SYNOPSIS OF SCENES 

Act I: Pops' office. 

Act II : Scene I. — Psychic parlor of the Countess. 

Curtain down one minute to indicate lapse 

of one month. 

Scene II. — Bunker's apartment. 
Act III : Living-room in Pops' country home. 
Act IV: Same as Act II. Scene II. 



His Majesty Bunker 
Bean 



ACT I 

Scene: Private office of James Breede, known to 
his family as Pops, to his friends as "J. B." 
and to the world as the "Great Reorganizer." 
Formal, rather sumptuous office, on the twen- 
tieth floor of a modern skyscraper. Door L.2E. 
to private office. Door l.c. to public hall. 
Door R.2E. to main office. Breede's large ma- 
hogany table desk stands c. with small chair for 
his secretary at r. end of it. Telephone on 
desk, also push button to outer office. Breede's 
swivel chair back of desk c. Large easy chair 
(leather) l. of desk. Rolltop desk against wall 
directly back of Breede's desk. Letter file 
with report, etc., against wall l. Small book- 
case with collapsible shelf above door r. As 
curtain rises noise of typewriter and stock ticker 
heard off to r. It is a warm day in early June. 
The windows at back, right hand, are open, the 
awnings are down. 

Discovered : Pops, in his shirt sleeves, seated at his 
desk, his vest is half unbuttoned, his hair un- 
tidy, he wears a stiff bosom shirt and detach- 
able cuffs, fastened with hideous metallic de- 
vices; from a small tray before him he is fin- 
ishing his hygienic lunch, a glass of milk, four 
health crackers and an apple. While he eats he 
7 



8 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

works, runs through letters as he munches 
slowly, devouring letters and the crackers simul- 
taneously. He pushes a button before him and 
buzzer heard faintly off r. Enter Bulger 
l.2e., a sporty-looking stenographer with note- 
book and pencil. 

Pops. (Disgusted glance) Where's Bean. Must 
have Bean. 

Bulger. (Scowling) Yes, sir. Mr. Larabee's 
just come . . . 

Pops. (Angrily) And of course you keep him 
waiting, haven't you any sense? 

Bulger. (Holding open door) Step right in, Mr. 
Larabee. 

(Enter Larabee, l.2E., elderly millionaire, last word 
in eloquence, parted white whiskers, gold pince- 
nez with broad black ribbon, fancy vest bou- 
tonniers.) 

Pops. How are yeh, Lar'bee? 
Larabee. How are you, J. B.? 
Bulger. Anything more, Mr. Breede? 
Pops. Yes, get out. I'll ring for Bean when I 
want him. 

(Xarabee bustles forward. Bulger sticks out his 
tongue at the two men, behind their backs, and 
vanishes r^2E.J 

Larabee. Well, J. B., what's the decision. 

Pops. Sit down. Lis'n. M' mind's made up. 
I'm going to knock the button out from under the 
Fed'ral Express . . . 

Larabee. Now really, J. B., in the present state 
of public opinion, eh? Do you think it wise? 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 9 

Pops. If I didn't, I wouldn't do it. (Snorts.) 
Public opinion, public opinion be . . . 

Larabee. Now, now, we mustn't antagonize . . . 

Pops. Lar'bee, when you boys follow my lead, 
you make money. V/hen you don't, you lose it. 
That's the answer. 

Larabee. But times are changing . . . 

Pops. Who says so. The newspapers? Haugh. 
What can they do ? Do they know Fed'ral Express 
has a big concealed surplus? Does anybody know 
but you an' me an' the other directors — who's run- 
ning Fed'ral Express, if we're not? 

Larabee. Yes, yes, but . . . 

Pops. (Banging desk) We're goin' to cut the nex' 
dividend — see? Our earnin's have been shrinkin' — 
hard times, gov'ment interferences. We can't af- 
ford to pay it. Then sell like the devil, on paper, 
down she goes. 

Larabee. She'll go all right. 

Pops. Haugh, there's a lot of outstanding stock 
in small lots. Too much. After we've pounded 
her, we'll gather it all in, cheap. That's business, 
ain't it? Nobody can object to that . . . 

Larabee. H'm . . . 

Pops. Well, those that do— let 'em. We'll have the 
stuff in our hands. We can take our time, an' cut 
up that melon of ours we've been keeping on ice, 
when we're good and ready. 

Larabee. Divide the surplus, eh? (Rubbing his 
hands.) 

Pops. Fine. I know you'd see it as I do. It's 
nothing but a straight business proposition anyway. 
I'll write Haskins at once to run over for next 
week's meetin' . . . 

(Someone is tapping on the glass of 'the door l. to 
public hall.) 



io HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Larabee. (Startled, jumping up) What's that? 
Pops. (Pointing to door) If you're going that 
way, you'll find out. 

Larabee. Ah, certainly. 

(Takes up high hat, crosses l. to door and opens it. 
The Flapper, Breede's youngest daughter, 
stands smilingly in the doorway. Not tall, al- 
most pudgy, with a plump brown face and steady 
eyes. Her clothes are the last word in quiet 
smartness. Very pleasing, rather different little 
lady.) 

Flapper. How perfectly nice of you, Mr. Lara- 
bee. I hope Pops will think so. He doesn't al- 
ways, you know. (Entering) Hello, Pops. 

Pops. Chubbins, watcha doing here? (Pushes 
button.) Busy, busy. 

Flapper. I perfectly knew you would be. You 
always are. 

Larabee. Well, I'm off. If you need me, J. B., 
I'll be over at the office for another hour. 

Pops. Goin' to the game? 

Larabee. Ah, naturally, couldn't dream of miss- 
ing it with Bud Matthews in the box. 

Pops. (Pushes button again) Same here, b'bye. 

Larabee.- (Waving his hat) You always look 
sweet as a rosebud, Miss Marie. (Smiles and goes.) 

Flapper. Good-bye. Mr. Larabee is such a 
silly. (Sniffs.) He uses perfumery, too, ugh. (Re- 
enter Bulger, r.) 

Pops. (Hearing door, without looking up) Take 
J. N. Haskins, Cincinnati, dear sir . . . 

Flapper. How are you, Mr. Bulger ? 

Bulger. I'm very well, thank you. 

Pops. Take letter. In the matter meetin' Fed'- 
ral 'Spress directors nex' Wednesday utmost im- 
portance you should 'tend meetin' in person an' . . . 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN n 

^Bulger has jumped noisily for the chair below 
desk, kicking desk as he flops into chair and slaps 
his notebook down — glaring at him.) Where's 
Bean ? 

Bulger. Mason sent him down to 26 Broadway 
with those Federal Express proxies . . . 

Pops. Haugh. (Repeating.) Utmost 'portance 
you should 'tend meetin' in person an' . . . 

Bulger. Hold on, sir; I didn't get that. ("Pops 
throws himself back in chair.) 

Flapper. (Sweetly) Didn't you? I did. 

Pops. (Before Bulger can reply, roars) Clear 
out-a here, M'rie. 'Nuff to drive a man 'sane. 

Flapper. But, Pops, dear . . . 

Pops. (Exploding) Gurreat Godfrey . . . 

Flapper. It's perfectly too bad your foot's hurt- 
ing you. Never mind, Pops, I've loads of time. 

Pops. Utmost 'portance you should 'tend . . . 

Bulger. Who's it to, Mr. Breede . . . 

Pops. (Glaring) Who's what to? 

Bulger. The letter, I didn't catch it . . . 

Pops. Haugh, you'll catch it now, m' boy . . . 

Flapper. Pops, don't fuss so. 

Bulger. (Injured tone) You didn't give me a 
fair start, Mr. Breede . . . 

Pops. (Pushing button on his desk) Oh, you 
want a handicap, do you. Well, handicaps don't go 
with me. Young Bean don't ask for 'em . . . 

Bulger. (Scribbles in notebook, scowling sul- 
lenly) Mr. Judkins, Sioux City, something about. 
(Looks up.) 

Flapper. Oh, that wasn't what he said . . . 

Pops. J. W. Haskins, Cincinnati, dear sir . . . 

Mason. (Entering R.2E.J Sorry to keep you 
waiting, Mr. Breede . . . 

Pops. Then don't do it, where's . . . 



12 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Flapper. How do you do, Mr. Mason; how is 
your mother? 

Mason. Quite well, thank you. 

Pops. And after this, Mason . . . 

Flapper. (Calmly) I'll go down and get a choco- 
late nut sundae, they have such good ones next the 
cigar stand, and it's such fun being taken for a 
stenographer ... (At door L.2E.) So that's all 
settled and everything . . . (Starts off.) Good- 
bye, Mr. Mason; good-bye, Mr. Bulger. So long, 
Pops, see you later. (Exit.) 

Pops. An' after this, Mason, if you've any er- 
rands, remember any fool on two legs can run 'em 
for you. Mr. Bulger here, for instance. No good 
wastin' brains when all you need's feet. Under- 
stand ? Young Bean's my private stenographer, and 
he's gotta be round here when I want him. (Slaps 
on old-fashioned soft hat and starts cross L.J Must 
have Bean. 

Mason. Very good, Mr. Breede, he'll be back in 
no time. (Open door r.) 

Pops. (Turns) No time, haugh . . . 

Mason. Ah, here's Bean now, Mr. Breede. 

Pops. (Throws down hat in chair and strips off 
coat) Tell him to bring in his portable typewriter. 

Mason. Yes, sir. (Calls off r. crossly.) WhereVe 
you been all this time? I told you to hurry, Mr. 
Breede wants you ... 

fBuLGER hastily goes out R.2E., leaving door ajar. 
Pops trots back to his desk. Just as he drops 
into chair, enter Bunker Bean, R.2E., with 
small portable typewriter. He softly closes 
door. He is young, neat, efficient, but self- 
distrustful. Clothes well cut, but inconspicu- 
ous. Wears an office coat; throughout the fol- 
lowing scene Bunker nods respectfully when 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 13 

spoken to and accomplishes his task, but never 
speaks a word. Mason goes back to filing cab- 
inet to file azvay papers.) 

Pops. (Begins as Bean enters and shut door, 
without looking round) Take letter, J. B. Haskins, 
Cincinnati, dear sir . . . (Bites savagely into ap- 
ple. Bunker slips into chair, slides paper into ma- 
chine, begins typewriting at furious speed.) 'Ja get 
it? (TJunker nods, Pops snorts to conceal his pleas- 
ure.) Haugh. In the matter meetin' Fed'ral 'Spress 
directors nex* Wednesday, utmost importance you 
should 'tend meetin' in person an' — am I goin' a leetle 
too fast for you, m'boy? (Bunker shakes head and 
looks up — as before.) Haugh. An' come prepared 
to support any action I may recommend at time. 
Need hardly add such action will be for your best 
interest and bes' intres' of all concern ... 'Ja £ et 
that? fBuNKER nods.) Haugh, you's truly. Two 
copies, mark it Private. Rush. That's all. fBuN- 
ker lays letter after removing it from, machine, 
rises before him, bows. As he signs letter.) Here- 
after — don't you take orders from Mason. You're 
not 'sponsible anybody in this office but me. (^Bun- 
ker nods. Pops rubs hand over cheek, jumps up, 
climbs into coat, trots over l., grabbing up hat as 
he goes.) 

Mason. (Turning irritably) Pardon me, Mr. 
Breede, do you really mean that . . . 

Pops. Mean it ? No, of course not ; I never mean 
what I say, do I, Mason. 

Mason. (Crestfallen) But as head clerk, the 
discipline of the office, it makes me look . . . 

Pops. Going for shave, be back in ten minutes. 
(Opens door, turns.) Wait here, understand. 
Wantcha. When I want Bean, mus' have Bean 



14 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

That's all. (Goes. Bulger enters, R.2E., as door 
L. slams, and shuts door after him.) 

Bulger. (Exploding) "Must have Bean." You 
only been here a month an' I been doin' time three 
years. 

Bunker. (Fitting paper into typewriter) I don't 
mind doin' time, Max. I hate to see it wasted. If 
the old man would only tell me when he wants two 
copies, Td call that "efficiency." (Sets to work to 
re-copy letter.) 

Bulger. (To MasonJ Lis'n to Perfesser Bunker 
Hill Monument. (Looks at letter over shoulder.) 
Federal Express . . . (To MasonJ Say, take it 
from me, when his Foxy rebates an' Larabee get 
together, there's a big pot open and the cards are 
phoney — Federal Express, ha, ask me, ask me. 

Bunker. (Looking over his shoulder^ glancing 
up) Don't do that, Max. This letter's "Private." 

Bulger. (To Mason ) Gee, kid, to hear you 
talk, a guy'd think you was Julius W. Caesar . . . 

Mason. (Quickly) Say, that's funny. 

Bulger. What is? 

Mason. Ah, talking of Julius Caesar — wait a 
minute, Max. (Draws out folded half sheet of 
paper.) 

Bunker. (Erasing mistake.) Can't you fellows 
chin somewhere else ? 

Bulger. Sure we can. But I don't happen to feel 
like walkin' far . . . (Sits on Breede's desk beside 
Bunker and grins at him.) 

Mason. Lis'n here, Max . . . (Reads slowly.) 
"A man certainly ought to be able to find out who 
he really was hundreds of years ago." 

Bulger. Down, Fido, down ; go on, Mason. 

Mason. It certainly ought to give a man a lot of 
self-confidence to know he'd been someone big — 
way back, Julius Caesar, for instance. If a man 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 15 

knew he'd been Julius Caesar once, he wouldn't be 
afraid of anybody. That stands to reason. Maybe 
the countess could tell me . . . ('Bunker, with bent 
head, types furiously.) There, wh'ad you make of 
that. 

Bulger. Yeh. (Grabs paper.) It's Bean's fist all 
right. (To BunkerJ Why, you must keep a diary 
just like a girl . . . 

Bunker. (Jumping up, to Mason,) You've no 
right to take papers off my desk. 

Mason. Haven't I? Well, I guess that blew off. 
I picked it up over in a corner by the ticker basket. 
What the dickens does it mean, kid. Are you bug- 
house ? 

Bulger. (Who's been studying the paper, in 
friendly tone) Never you mind, kid. (Hands Bun- 
ker paper, stuffs it quickly into his pocket.) Mason 
don't understand this here psychic stuff. But o' 
course I'm on to what you're driving at . . . 

Bunker. (Grateful) Are you, Max? 

Mason. (Loftily) Sure, Max has a kind of idea 
I must have been William Shakespeare once. 
(Chuckles.) 

Bulger. Aw, can that. Ain't you got no re- 
ligion ? 

Mason. Who d'you think Max must a been, eh ? 

Bulger. Never mind now, I'm no atheist. I'm 
strong for this once upon a time stuff. 

Bunker. Are you, Max? 

Bulger. Les'ee, what's this they call it. 

Bunker. Re-incarnation . . . 

Bulger. Yeh, you said it . . . f Mason laughs.) 

^ Bunker. (Hotly) If you'd ever read anything 

since you left school, you wouldn't grin. Why, the 

first man I ever worked for wrote a book about it — 

"Glimpses Through the Veil of Time." 

Bulger. Some name. 



16 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Bunker. Some book. Six hundred pages. I 
took it all down from dictation. All about Astral 
bodies and Karms and the Mundane Eggo — like to 
see it, Max? 

Bulger. Sure. 

Bunker. Fve a copy in my desk somewhere . . . 

Bulger. ^Mason laughs, Bulger to Bunker, 
who is going) Don't you pay no attention to him, 
kid. He ain't seen the light. 

Bunker. Mason will never see the light. Some 
men are born blind. (Exit.) 

Mason. (Roars with laughter) Well, of all the 
nuts. 

Bulger. The kid, ask me. Why, he ain't like 
anybody else on earth. Scared of his own shadow, 
an' innocent. Y' can't get him to smoke or take a 
drink. As for looking sideways at a classy little 
skirt, not him. He'd do a Marathon first . . . 

Mason. Would, eh? Then who's this countess 
he speaks of . . . 

Bulger. Oh, her, Countess Casanova. That's 
different. She's a dame runs a psychic parlor up to 
Twenty-eighth Street. Bean lives in that psychic 
dope. 

Mason. Does he? 

Bulger. Yes, reads books about it. 

Mason. That proves he's crazy. 

Bulger. Not on ybur Monicker. I gotta hunch 
that way myself. It was me discovered the count- 
ess, when I was lookin' for tips on the Big League 
ratin's. Believe me, the countess is some scientific 
medicine. She's O. K. I took Bean round there, 
you ask him about her . . . 

Mason. You kids make me tired, running round 
to palmists and astrologers. (Chuckles.) I guess 
your friend the countess has been fillin' Bean up 
with that Julius Caesar dope, eh . . . 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN ' 17 

Bulger. No, it don't sound like her much . . . 

Bunker. (Entering with big book, hands it to 
MaxJ There, Max. I guess a man couldn't dic- 
tate a book that size about re-incarnation if it wasn't 
all so. 

Bulger. (Weighing the book) "Glimpses 
Through the Veil of Time." All of five pounds, I 
should say not. 

Mason. (Telephone rings) See who that is, will 
you. 

Bulger. Hello . . . (At phone, Bunker writes, 
gets change in tone,) Oh, Miss Breede . . . (To 
BunkerJ Nix, nix. ("Bunker stops.) No, your 
father's just stepped out. He'll be back soon. 
What? Oh, certainly, now I get you, Miss Breede. 
His name's Bean, Bunker, what, yeh, Bunker 
Bean. (With a wink to Mason. ) The Flapper wants 
to speak to you, kid . . . (At phone.) Just a mo' 
Miss Breede, here's Mr. Bean right now . . . 

Bunker. (Stammering) Miss — Breede. What's 
she want with me? 

Bulger. (Holds out receiver, grins, Bunker hesi- 
tates) Don't croak, kid. It's Miss M'rie. She's 
only a flapper. Ask her, ask her. 

Bunker. Hello. No, I didn't say ask her, ask 
her. That was Mr. Bulger. (Gulping.) Yes, this 
is Mr. Bean talking. But, I — I don't know what to 
say, Miss Breede . . . (Turns to Bulger. ) She's 
rung off. (Hangs up.) 

Bulger. Rung off? 

Mason. What's she want? 

Bunker. I don't know. She asked me to say 
something, and I said I didn't know what to say . . . 

Bulger. Then what'd she hand you? 

Bunker. Thanked me. 

Mason. Thanked . . . 

Bunker. Yes, she said, Thank you, Mr. Bean, I 



18 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

just perfectly knew it would be all right. (Suddenly 
suspicious.) See here, you and Max are in this. 
That wasn't Miss Breede at all. 

Bulger. (Scratching head) It was the Flapper 
all right. But she's got me guessing . . . 

Mason. Me, too. 

Bulger. Say, kid, I thought you never saw J. B.'s 
two squabs till we was leaving the building yester- 
day. 

Bunker. Never did. 

Bulger. Well . . . ^Bulger starts typing.) Nix, 
nix, I was lampin' big sister Gwendolen, same's I 
always do . . . 

Mason. Peacherine . . . 

Bulger. Say . . . But I took notice the Flap- 
per had a good flash at you while the old man was 
climbin' into the car. An' what's more, she rub- 
bered back twice. Honest, kid, you made a hit with 
her. (Wink at MasonJ 

Mason. No wonder, the ladies always fall for 
these gay Lotheries. 

Bulger. I'll bet she called you up just to start 
something . . . 

Bunker. With me? (Wearily.) She thinks I'm 
a joke, most likely. Everybody does. (Mourn- 
fully.) I think so myself sometimes . . . 

Bulger. Cheer up, kid, maybe the Flapper loves 
you. 

Bunker. Quit. (Gloomily.) 

Mason. Well, if there's anything doing, Mr. 
Bean, take my advice, nurse it. (Winks at Bul- 
ger.j She's only got a few hundred thousands for 
pin money. 

Bunker. Think I'd marry for money! 

Bulger. Huh, if you wouldn't, kid, it's Matteewan 
*or yours, next stop. 

Bunker. Women don't appeal to me. Oh, of 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 19 

course, some day, if I've climbed clear up to the 
top, where the people with real class live, I might 
look 'em over. When a man's made a million or 
two, I s'pose he ought to get married whether he 
wants to or not. He's got to have some one around 
to wear his jewels and sit beside him in his opera 
box, that stands to reason. 

Mason. Going up, eh. (Sneeringly.) 

Bulger. (With a grin) Say, kid, when does the 
express elevator start? 

Bunker. Ah, I know I'm only dreaming as well 
as you do. It's my name. Max, my name's against 
me. Bunker Bean, call that a name? There's no 
class to it. A man ought to be allowed to pick' his 
own name, then he'd have some chance of rising. 
Bean — you can't fight against that. It don't sound 
right. Theodore Roosevelt, there's a name. 

Bulger. Oh, cheer up, kid, you're not so worse. 
J. B.'s just been distributing lemons to the rest of 
us and throwin' you bouquets. 

Bunker. Yes, because I take his work down 
faster'n he can masticate it, what of it ? A man can't 
rise in the world that way. I want to get clean up to 
the top. (Sigh.) But I can't even get started — I've 
no self-confidence, like you have, Max. That's 
the trouble. Don't seem to see myself hitting the 
high spots. Bunker Bean, that's all I am. Why 
I can't even make myself wear the snappy clothes 
I like, or . . . 

Mason. Well take my tip, kid. You may have 
been G. Washington for all I care, but I'm head 
clerk here now, and if you go on bootlicking J. B. 
and gettin' me in bad, you'll quit worrying about 
your past an' begin wondering what's going to hit 
you next. Get that? (With scowl and look, exits.) 

Bulger. Hot air, his mouth don't fit. (Pats 



20 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Bunker on back.) Take it from me, that Re . . . 
(Cough.) Nation stuff is O. K. 

Bunker. Thank you, Max. Did you ever feel as 
if you might have been someone big, way back, I 
mean. Someone with real class. A regular king! 

Bulger. Sure I have. That's why nothing 
phases me. I tell you, it puts some pep in a guy 
so he can breeze round an' enjoy life. (Tapping 
shoulder of BunkerJ An' the countess is jest the 
wise little dame to tell you all about it. 

Bunker. Think so? 

Bulger. Positively. (Confidential.) Say, kid, 
got a date to-night? 

Banker. Date? 

Bulger. Don't get scared. I'm not trying to 
shove you from the straight and narrow. But, 
how about you an' me lookin' in on the countess 
again to-night, eh? I need a few tips myself. 

Bunker. (Tremulously) Do you? (Seizes his 
hand.) Max — you — you're on. 

Bulger. Fine, meet you there, see, eight sharp. 
An' say, I'll just phone the countess. Tell her you 
and me. want a regular bang up seance to-night. I'll 
ask her to ring up all her controls an' have 'em 
round handy. (Slowly.) Re-in-dignation. Say, 
there's a lot of things like that a man oughta know 
if he wants to be a wise little guy . . . 

(Re-enter Pops on run, stripping off coat and be- 
ginning to dictate a letter as he trots across desk. 
Bulger instantly vanishes through door. Bun- 
ker grabs notebook from pocket and begins 
work.) 

Pops. (Crossing) Take letter. P. T. Dimeck, 
San Francisco, Dear Sir: I regard 'gestion as to 
participation your syndicate underwriting proposed 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 21 

Wabash and Western scrip . . . {Drops in chair- — 
Bunker gives glance of scorn.) An entirely un- 
warranted interference an* little short of imperti- 
nence. Got that? Two copies. Take letter. Peter 
and Peters, attorney law, Springfield, 111. Gen'men : 
Courts having 'cided equipment nes'ry part a road, 
without which road be totally crippled, what'd I say ? 

Bunker. (Quickly scribbling as he speaks) The 
courts having decided that the equipment . . . 

Pops. Skip to las' words . . . 

Bunker. (As before) Without which the road 
would be entirely crippled . . . 

Pops. S'nuff. You will note first mortgage 'quip- 
ment bonds take priority first mortgage bonds and 
gov'n yourself cordingly. Must have report this 
week probable cost repairs an' main'tnance. As for 
suit threatened to my General — Haugh! (Explod- 
ing.) I can't imagine nothing of less consequence. 

Bunker. (As he scribbles repeats softly) "I can 
imagine nothing of less consequence." 

Pops. Haugh ! 

Bunker. (Startled) Sorry. 

Pops. (Grabbing out watch) Yours very truly, 
three copies. (Springs to feet.) Goin' cross street, 
minute see Larabee, wait, wantcha, understand, 
wantcha . . . 

(As Pops trots across l. Bunker jumps up for his 
coat. Hurries after him, gets him into it, gets 
to public door, opens it, Pops shoots out, door 
swings shut. Enter Bulger r.2e. with mail. 
Goes to desk and drops letters, all but one in a 
yellow envelope, into letter rack. Then leans 
back against desk and examines yellow letter. ) 

Bulger. Larabee, eh? Federal Express, huh. 
Bunker. Federal Express. What's the idea? 



22 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Bulger. Ask me. Ask me. (Slaps letter against 
hand.) Say, how about you getting letters like this. 
Special delivery from a dame, too . . . Chicago . . . 
(Fooling letter.) An' it's not fat or anything — oh, 
no . . . (Laughs.) I'm wise, the dame's sending 
your love letters back. Lucky you. (Hands over 
letter.) Take my tip, an' burn 'em. 

Bunker. (Glances at letter, starts to pocket let- 
ter) From my aunt . . . 

Bulger. Hold on, that's special delivery. Maybe 
she's passin' you a check . . . 

Bunker. My aunt! Never sends me anything 
but good advice . . . (Pockets letter.) 

Bulger. Advice nothing. She wouldn't waste 
the stamps. Say, didn't the countess tell you you'd 
get a letter soon from a blonde, change your whole 
life! 

Bunker. No chance, my aunt's got white hair. 

Bulger. Well, that's blonde, isn't it? 

Bunker. (Scornful) Blonde, what's the sense 
of thinking a big psychic soul reader'd waste her 
control's time to tell me I'd get a letter from my 
aunt. Temperance tracts, mostly. Good woman 
and all that. Runs a boarding house, brought me 
up when my folks died, put me through business 
college . . . (Stuffs letter into pocket.) Blonde, 
I — I can imagine nothing of less consequence. 
(Looks at watch, throws himself in chair, disgust- 
edly.) Two o'clock. (Groans.) 

Bulger. Why don't you beat it for lunch right 
now? Show your independence. 

Bunker. What'd I care about lunch. It's the 
game I'm after, Max — Bud Matthews is the great- 
est left-handed pitcher the world's ever seen. 

Bulger. Who else is there? Kid, he'll have these 
Pirates foamy in the fighting top in three rounds. 
It's the dentist this P. M. for mine. 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 23 

Bunker. (Sighing) Oh, what's the use. It's 
letters all day for little George W. me. 

Bulger. (Picks up Bunker's notebook) Want 
me to run this off for you? 

Bunker. Can you read it? 

Bulger. Sure. (Reading.) Um — As to — syndi- 
cate — um — Weber and Western scrip Say — 

what's this — the old man never dictated this. This 
is one rotten suit of clothes — for God's sake, have 
your cuffs sewed on. Gee, kid, this looks interestin' 
— um — call that food. If you think you're a mag- 
nate — what makes you eat like a maggot {Whis- 
tling.) Say 

Bunker. The old man gets on my nerves, that's 
all. What's a few tainted millions more or less, if 
you've no class. 

Bulger. Ask me. Ask me. 

Bunker. Detachable cuffs. Gray wool socks. 
Why, I'll bet he's wearing red flannels right now, 
in June. 

Bulger. Kid, you're immense. I been under- 
estimating you. 

Bunker. It's the principle of the thing. That's 
what riles me. I don't say a multi's got to be an ad- 
vanced dresser, some men can do it. (Sadly.) Some 
can't. But wool socks, detachable cuffs, that's what 
hurts. I wouldn't mind his jailing me like this,, if 
he only looked human 

Bulger. (Throws down notebook) Tell him so 
some day, when he's got kidneys in his feet, an' 
watch your salary fade. (To door, grinning-) 

Bunker. (With disgust) Salary, fifteen per . . . 

Bulger. Fifteen since when . . . 

Bunker. This morning . . . 

Bulger. (Wrathfully) You only been hero a 
month an' he raised you. An' little yours respect- 



24 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

ful still doin' time at ten . . . (Mutters.) Fif- 
teen . . . 

Bunker. (Ring, answers) Hello, oh, oh, yes, 
Mr. Breede, Til come right over. (Hangs up re- 
ceiver savagely.) Wage slave. That's what I am. 
(Grabs up notebook.) Got to beat it across to 
Larabee's office. More letters. (Takes office coat, 
as he gets to door lJ 

Bulger. What's the idea of strippin'? 

Bunker. Don't like to wear an office coat cross- 
ing the street. Principle of the thing, Max. (Opens 
door.) May be a wage slave now, but if I ever do 
rise, I won't be a misfit like the old man. I'll be- 
long . . . (Bolts off.) 

Bulger. That's the boy. (As Bunker bolts off, 
the letter falls from pocket of the office coat over his 
arm. Bulger sees it fall and stoops to recover it.) 
Oh, Beanie. (When he straightens up the door has 
swung to in his face. Bulger out with hand to 
knob, then stops short. He examines letter curi- 
ously, holds it up to light, tests the way it is sealed 
with finger nail, then swiftly opens it with letter file 
opener, and clips it along flap. It opens, he quickly 
examines contents, glanced at check, gulps.) Holy 
Sizzler. (Goes to door r. and listens, running 
through letter hastily, hesitates, then returns letter 
and check to envelope, sticks them in pocket and 
crosses to desk phone. At phone, cautiously.) 
Gimme 101 Bryant, yep, rush it, kid. Nix on the 
line is busy stuff. (Pause and whistles.) Hey — 
Countess Casanova. Listen, this is Max Bulger, see. 
You remember Bean, my friend Bean. The funny 
little gink, sure. Say, listen. He's going round to 
see you t'night — eight o'clock — well — you gotta be 
there. The boob's come into money. (Softly.) 
Ten (Disgustedly.) Naw, thousand, ten thou- 
sand, I thought that'd lis'n well. Say, I got a let- 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 25 

ter for him here, he ain't read yet, about the money. 
I'm going to sneak a copy, see. Aw, no chance, fell 
open, I never touched it, yeh, that's the girl. I'll be 
there early, see? Fix it up with you bfore he blows 

in. Hay, halt Wait. Listen, he's got a new 

bug this time, yeh, bug, BUG. Insect, sure. Has 
it all doped out he was a king or something onct. 
Yeh, someone big like Julius W. Caesar. Got me? 
(Pause.) Napoleon. Fine, you feed the gink his 
letter before he's read it himself. Me for the sym- 
pathetic friend thing. He's easy. Hey — fifty fifty. 
You're on. (Outer office door l.e. opens, enter 
breezily the Waster, Breede's only son. Gilded 
youth. Hearing latch click, softly.) Cheese it, 
countess. (Glance round.) How are you, Clar- 
ence? 

Waster. Morning, Max? 

Bulger. (At phone) All right, sir, I'll attend to 
it at once. (Hangs up receiver.) 

Waster. Where's the guv'nor . . . (Just then 
Bunker opens door from l.e. and Pops darts in, 
follozved by Bunker and dictating as he comes. 
Bulger vanishes to outer office, r.2eJ 

Pops. (Crossing and chewing Pittsburgh stogie) 
Take letter. 

Waster. Hello, Pops. 

Pops. C. B. Detrentice, twenty-six Broadway, 
Dear Sir : (Sees son.) Clarence, what you doin' 
here? Get out. Busy, busy . . . (Sits.) Referrin' 
Federal Express stock would say having conferred 
Lar'bee matter gradually shapin' toward result talked 
of . . . 

Waster. (Airily) Bravo, Pops ; still at it, I see. 

fBuNKER again at post, glances at Waster with ad- 
miration, then glances at Pops' detachable cuffs.) 



26 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Pops. (To Bunker,) 'Ja g et ft? 

Bunker. Yes, sir. 

Pops. (To Bunker, ignornig Waster, savagely) 
What'd I say? Oh, have Vcructed Lar'bee mus' 
proceed with caution as any leak information this 
time would jep'dise favorable outcome so advan- 
tageous to all concern. Yours truly. (Sharply pull- 
ing at cuffs.) What's the matter my cuffs, anything 
wrong with me? Take letter. 

Waster. (Crosses quickly to desk) Hold on, 
Guv'nor, I'm a bit rushed myself. 

Pops. (Gruffly) Well, out with it. What's the 
damage? (Takes out roll of bills from pocket about 
to hand Waster money.) 

Waster. (Airily) Fact is, Pops, some of the fel- 
lahs at the club last night induced me to come in on 
a little game. Didn't want to peeve 'em — reasons. 
Monty Fallows is going to judge my chows at Pipin' 
Rock and . . . 

Pops. (Raging) Didn't I tell you gamblin' debts 
don't go with me? 

Waster. I know, Pops, but this is special. Diplo- 
macy — I want a blue ribbon for Ming Ching II and 
Monty . . . 

Pops. (Swinging round to face him) Haugh ! 
Might's well have this out with you, my boy . . . 
(To Bunker J Hadjer lunch? 

Bunker. (Almost in a whisper) No, sir . . . 

Pops. (Pushes plate of hygenic crackers over to 
him. Bunker makes look of disgust, which is ap- 
preciated by Waster, who meets Bunker's eyes, 
and grins in friendly fashion. Bunker, feeling he 
must, nibbles at cracker with evident distaste) Now, 
sir. 

Waster. (Breaking in) See here, Pops. You 
know how first chap fellahs like Monty feel about 
debts of honor. It'll put me in a beastly hole if . . . 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 27 

Pops. (Springing up angrily) Not a cent — sir, 
clear out. Madjer bed, lie in it. You're nothing 
but a waster . . . Wasters don't go with me . . . 
(Chew at stogie.) 

Waster. (His smile fading) But, Guv'nor, you 
don't seem to get me. I . . . 

Pops. (Turning on him) Wha' the devil you 
mean interferin' my work. Haven't I tol' you . . . 
(Crosses door r.l.2.e.J 

Waster. Oh, all right, we'll let it go at that . . . 
(Crosses door r.2eJ Sorry you're feelin' nasty, 
it's bad for your gout. If your foot swells to-night 
remember I waned you. (Cross to door l.J Ta, ta, 
Guv'nor — see you at dinner. 

Pops. (Exit R.2E.J Mason — Mason . . . ("Was- 
ter grins and winks at Bunker, who rises, opens 
outer office door. 

Bunker. (Apart timidly to Waster J If, if five 
dollars would help you out? 

Waster. (Apart — touched) Thanks, old top, no 
good ; five hundred would be more like it. 

("Bunker opens door, l.2e. Waster starts off. 
Flapper enters and confronts him. Waster 
surprised.) 

Flapper. Hello, Clarence. 

Waster. Where you drop from ? 

Flapper. Where's Pops? 

Waster. Better beat it if you're strapped. Pops 
is savage . . . 

Flapper. I just perfectly don't care. 

Waster. (Winks again at horrified Bunker) 
Well, wish you joy. 

(He exits, Bunker holds door, Flapper co 
slowly in, she looks into Bunker's eyes in funny 



28 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

determined little way. Bunker in confusion. 
She passes him and seats herself at R. off desk. 
Pause. Enter Pops D.R.2E.J 

Pops. Lo, Chubbins. 

Flapper. Lo, Pops. 

Pops. Back again. Whatcha doin' here. Busy, 
busy, busy. (Starts dictating again, as he trots to 
his chair. Bunker to post.) Take telegram Post 
and Post, attorneys, Chicago, cipher it. If you want 
my private business in future get busy now. The 
law's delays don't go with me. Telegram Senator 
Stebbins Washington. Your appointment on Com- 
mittee Industrial relations highly satisfactory me and 
business interests country keep the brakes on. Cipher 
it. Telegram Bobby Wylie, Caddie House, Ardsley- 
on-Hudson, Conditions on tenth green last Sunday 
disgrace to club, give it immediate attention, no 
copies. 

(The Flapper pats her skirt, sits calmly in easy 
chair across desk from Breede and never takes 
her approving eyes from Bunker as he works. 
He feels her eyes and hardly knows what he is 
doing.) 

Flapper. (Pause) All through, Pops? I met 
such a nice girl while I was having my sundae. 
She's a manicure. We perfectly had lunch together. 
I converted her to the movement, too. 

Pops. Haugh. (Writes and ringing.) Great 
Godfrey, what's the use of pushing buttons when 
nobody answers 'em. (Try door outer office and 
open it.) Where's Mason, hey. (Starts off, turns 
back a second.) Oh, daughter . . . (Exits D.R.2E.J 

Bunker. (Rise, dazed) PI — pleased to meet you. 

Flapper. (With friendly nod) That's nice. I 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 29 

met you yesterday. I mean I saw you, from the 
car. 

Bunker. Some car. 

Flapper. That little old last year's car. Mops 
won't use it, so Pops has to. You were standing on 
the pavement with that horrid Mr. Bulger when 
Pops came down, and I asked about you. Did you 
see me? 

Bunker. I — I almost think so — I knew I saw 
the car, little old last year's car . . . 

Flapper. Well, sometimes people don't see me 
when I'm next to Gwendolen. Dear Gwen's clothes 
always shout "Look this way, please." 

Bunker. (Getting courage) Miss Breede, why 
did you call me up — Miss Breede? 

Flapper. (Giggling) Oh, I had a kind of sort 
of a plan, and I just knew you'd be wondering. 

Bunker. (Puzzled) D — did you? 

Flapper. Of course, I never can tell whether I 
like people till I hear them speak, can you. But I 
perfectly knew it would be all right after . . . 

Bunker. What? (At sea, blushes.) I mean, 
that's what you said over the phone . . . 

Flapper. Yes, didn't I. (Nodding brightly.) 
Your interested in the movement . . . 

Bunker. Movement? 

Flapper. (Points to woman's suffrage badge on 
her breast) The movement. 

Bunker. (Falters) Oh, yes, greatly — every little 
movement, you mean . . . 

Flapper. I perfectly don't. 

Bunker. (Lamely) Er, it's a song — wasn't it? 

Flapper. Ah, do you sing. I perfectly knew 
you would. Granny's writing a song for the cause 
to the tune of "Break, Break, Break . . ." 

Bunker. (Miserable) Delighted, er, that is, 
would be, but I don't sing. 



So HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Flapper. Well, you can march anyway, in the 
man's auxiliary? Granny and I marched in the 
parade last year. Granny and I always hang to- 
gether, you know. If she wasn't so old we'd run 
over to London and get arrested. 

Bunker. What — what for? 

Flapper. Silly, for breaking things. Granny'll 
pin a badge on you. We have to take advantage 
of every little means. (Suddenly jumps up, clap- 
ping her hands.) Wait, you shall have my badge — 
now. 

Bunker. P — please, don't let me deprive you, 
really, I couldn't think of . . . 

Flapper. (She steps up to him, lays one hand 
on his shoulder, looks frankly into his face, pins 
badge on his lapel. As she does so) Don't scrooge 
away so. I perfectly won't stick you. There. (One 
hand on his shoulder, give the badge a friendly pat. 
Just then the door opens and Julia, Flapper's 
mother, appears in doorway, with Gwendolen, her 
big sister, and Grandma the demon looming behind 
her. Julia is large overdressed, peevish4ooking 
woman. Big Sister, with golden hair, is tall, self- 
conscious and absurdly vain. Grandma the demon 
is a trim vigorous, shrewd-looking, self-reliant old 
lady.) 

Julia. (From the doorway, in accents of horror) 
Marie, what on earth are you doing? (Sails for- 
ward, followed by others.) Where's your father? 
Fancy his leaving you like this unchaperoned. The 
poor man must have lost his wits. 

Big Sister. (With reproof shutting door) 
Mother, the clerks are listening . . . 

Grandma. (With speed, eyeing Bunker^ Who 
is this young man, Marie. Does he work here . . . 

Flapper. Yes, Granny. (Calmly — to Bunker. ) 
You do, don't you? Mops, this is Mr. Bean. 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 31 

Julia. Bean . . . 

Big Sister. (Tittering) Is that — all. 

Bunker. (Looking about for some avenue of es- 
cape) Bunker Bean PI — pleased to ... 

Big Sister. From Boston . . . (Titter.) 

Flapper. (Darting a look of hate) Gwen, you 
perfectly shan't tease him . . . 

Julia. (Ignoring Bunker^ Marie, I asked you a 
question — where is your father? 

Flapper. (Ignoring her mother) Oh, Granny, 
Mr. Bean believes in the movement . . . 

Grandma. (Pursing her lips) Um — so far so 
good. 

Flapper. He sings, too, at least, he marches. He's 
promised to join the men's auxiliary right away. 

Julia. Marie, where is your father? 

Flapper. Pops. Oh, he's all right, Mops, truly. 
Don't fuss so. (To Bunker.,) You have promised, 
haven't you . . . 

Bunker. (Trying to edge to door) Er — have I? 

Flapper. (Delighted) Of course, that perfectly 
settled and everything . . . 

Julia. (Tragic, giving up the struggle) Gwen- 
dolen. You speak to her. 

Grandma. (Sharply) For goodness sake, Julia, 
what is the matter? Don't bedevil the child. She's 
doing no harm here as I can see . . . 

Big Sister. (Sweetly) You ought to wear 
stronger glasses, Grandma. (Looks at Bunker, 
who is in confusion.) 

Bunker. (Turns apologizing, humbly to desk) 
I — I beg your pardon. (She laughs. Bunker 
turns.) I beg your pardon . . . 

Grandma. (Nodding) That's all right, young 
man. I like nice manners. A body can see you've 
been well brought up. (Bunker almost reduced to 
tears leans against desk for support, blushing.) 



12 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Julia, (Exploding) What I want to know is 
this, Marie. When we all went into Lord and Tay- 
lor's to shop why did you say you had a headache, 
and stay in the car, and then make Jools . . . 

Big Sister. (Correcting) Mother, Jules . . . 

Julia. Jeels, then, I said Jeels anyway. (Turns 
to Flapper.,) Why did you deceive me and then 
make Jools . . . (T3ig Sister sighs.) run down and 
leave you. What is the meaning of that, I want to 
know. 

Big Sister. (Wickedly) That surely is plain 
enough. Little Marie felt she ought to convert — 
Mr. — Mr. Bean to the cause. (Titter.) 

Bunker. (Desperately) Pardon me, I — I heard 
the bell. (Starts to door.) 

Grandma. (Catching him by sleeves and restrain- 
ing him) No, you didn't, young man. None of your 
pranks. My ears are as good as yours. Better 
maybe. How much does Jim pay you a month 
down here . . . ^Bunker opens and closes his 
mouth like a fish, then re-enter Pops, on the run.) 

Pops. Take letter, J. N. Haskins, Cincinnati, 
dear . . . (Sees them, stops dead, then explodes, 
wraihfully.) Gur . . . great Godfrey! Is this my 
office or isn't it. Nothing but interruptions all day. 
'Nuff drive a man crazy. Why didn't you bring the 
neighbors and servants and have tea. Clear out, all 
of you. 

Julia. James, James, keep your temper. We fol- 
lowed Marie here to find out what she was up to 
and take her home. 

Flapper. Mops, don't fuss so. 

Pops. That's what I say, Julia. You're always 
fussin' . . . 

Flapper. (Firmly) I'm going home with Pops. 
That'll all I'm up to. 

Julia. You're going home with me. 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 33 

Grandma. For goodness gracious sakes, Julia, 
why shouldn't the poor child ride home with her 
father ? 

Flapper. (Links her arm in father's) Yes, Pops, 
dear, why shouldn't I? 

Pops. No reason can see. Wantcha go with me 
ball game, if it isn't too late. Good-bye, rest a you. 
See you all dinner. Enjoy yourself. 

Julia. Now, James . . . 

Pops. (To BunkerJ Open the door . . . (Trots 
over to desk the Flapper seats herself, calmly tri- 
umphant in easy chair. Bunker crosses l. to door, 
followed by Grandma.,) 

Big Sister. (Taking Julia's arm) Come, mother, 
don't make £ scene. It's too silly. (Leading her 
mother over softly.) Wait till you get father alone. 
(Exit Julia l.2e. Bunker opens door to public 
hall. Big Sister sparkles at him.) Take care, Mr. 
(Titters.) Mr. Bean, you're in awful danger. I 
warn you . . . (Tosses her head, laughs, and exits 

L.2E.) 

Grandma (To BunkerJ Got any bad habits? 

Bunker. (Indignantly) Well, I don't know, I'm 
young yet. 

Grandma. Um . . . (Doubtful, looks him over. 
Exits.) 

Bunker. (Quickly shut door, mutters) Cheek. 

Pops. (Calling to Bunker j What's I saying . . . 

Bunker. (Crossing back to desk) Letter — J. N. 
Haskins . . . 

Pops. S'nuff. Dear Sir: Please note closed 
schedule car repairing make two copies — an' let me 
have figgers estimated cost at your earliest con- 
venience . . . (Grabs out watch.) Yours truly — 
what time's that game called? 

Bunker. (Jumping) Three . . . 



34 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Pops. Jus' got time to make it. (Jumps up, gets 
into coat and grabs hat, to FlapperJ C'mon. 

Flapper. (Rising) Papa, how rude you are. 
Can't you see poor Mr. Bean wants to go too. 

Pops. Haugh. How'd you know. (To BunkerJ 
Do you? 

Bunker. Letters . . . (Swallowing hard, points 
to notebook.) 

Flapper. I just perfectly knew he did. 

Pops. (Pushing button desk) Two forty now, 
getcher hat. Ring that buzzer . . . /^Flapper does 
so.) Take y'up in car. Don' forgetcher notebook. 
Dictate on way up. (Enter BulgerJ No, tell 
Mason stay here and keep the office open till Mr. 
Bean returns . . . 

Bulger. Saturday ? 

Pops. Any objections? 

Bulger. No, sir ; no, sir ; no, sir . . . (Snarls,) 

Pops. Mr. Bean'll be here by five to get off the 
letters. ("Bunker looks sick.) 

Flapper. Oh. 

Pops. (Grabs her arm) C'mon, Mr. Bean . . . 
(Pulls the Flapper, who half pulls Bunker over 
l. to door.) 

Bulger. (With exaggerated dignity) Excuse 
me, Mr. Bean, about that letter a' yours, you dropped 
it an' . . . 

Bunker. (As Pops opens door) Dropped letter. 
Oh, from m' aunt, I — I can imagine nothing of less 
consequence . . . 

Pops and Flapper. (Together) C'mon. (They 
rush Bunker off.) 

CURTAIN 



ACT II 

Scene I : Psychic parlor of the Countess Casanova, 
Forty-eighth Street. Evening of same day as 
Act I. 

Small room built inside large setting for Act. 
II. Scene II. Scenery must be built not more 
than twelve feet high, with small box ceiling. 
Door left center opens on stage. These doors 
correspond practically in opposite directions to 
doors which are used in Scene II, Act II. Thus 
round scenes should be used, so that at conclu- 
sion of Scene No. I same may be struck out 
without interfering setting of Scene No. II. 

Discovered : Countess Casanova, seated l. of cen- 
ter table, on which is a large, supposedly crystal 
globe. A fat volume — Bunker's copy of 
"Glimpses Through the Veil of Time" — lies 
on the table before her. She is nervously smok- 
ing a cigarette, and studying a typewritten sheet 
of paper, the contents of which she is trying to 
memorize. 

Countess. (Repeating) Check for ten thousan' 
— check for ten thousan' — life insured t' make res- 
titooshun — life insured t' make restu-tooshun — fifty 
shares Fed'ral Express — fifty shares Fed'ral Ex- 
press — fifty shares (Enter r. Mira, Countess 1 

maid. Anxiously.) Well — well ? 

Mira. The professor said he'll be right up . . . 

Countess. I must see him before Max comes. 
Max mustn't know he's here — understand? 

35 



36 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Mira. (Smile) Of course. 

Countess. And nobody's to get in here t'night 
except Max — and Mr. Bean. (Bell.) There's Balt- 
hazar now. fMi&A open door.) Mira — r- 

Mira. (Stopping) Ma'am ? 

Countess. What is it I pay for? 

Mira. To keep my ears open an' my mouth 
shut . . . 

Countess. Good girl, I'm all in a tremble to- 
night — I feel I'm not goin' to do myself justice . . . 
(Bell.) Oh, quick. Balthazar hates to be kept wait- 
ing. ('Mira admits Balthazar. Anxiously.) 

Balthazar. (Entering) Coast clear, countess? 

Countess. (Humbly) Yes, Balthazar. 

Balthazar. Well, my child? 

Countess. Max Bulger'll be here any minute — 
with a repeater he's been nursin' for me — clerk in his 
office named Bean . . . 

Balthazar. Bean ? 

Countess. (Tremulously) The little boob's come 
into money, Balthazar. 

Balthazar. Bean? A boob called Bean — into 
money? (Bitterly.) But I'm not surprised. That's 
the way the world's run. How much? The grand 
total! 

Countess. Ten = (Swallows hard.) thousand. 

Balthazar. Thousand (Pause — then to 

Mira.J Did she say thousand? 

Mira. Ten of 'em, professor. 

Balthazar. (His eyes gleam. To Countess,) 
This is out of your depth, my child. 

Countess. (Rather wildly) Oh, Balthazar — if 
I'd only had your education. 

Balthazar. (Correcting her) My brains, child 
— my brains. But you have your uses — you strike 
the eye. (Quick transition.) How many times has 
the boob called Bean — been here ? 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 37 

Countess. Three or four . . 

Mira. Naw — on'y twice. 

Balthazar. Ha. That's fortunate. What did 
you feed him? 

Countess. Nothing fancy. The usual tips on 
the Big League ratings. 

Balthazar. (Disgusted) Bum stuff, countess. 
You cramp my style. However . . . 

Countess. (Flourishes paper in hand) But see 
here, Balthazar. Here's a copy of a letter of his — 
Max sent it up to me and I've got it pat. 

Balthazar. A love letter? 

Mira. Naw — about the money. A letter he ain't 
never read yet . . . 

Balthazar. (Sharply, glacing at copy of letter, 
which he puts into his pocket later) Ha. 

Countess. Balthazar — he don't even know yet — 
how rich he is. 

Balthazar. Doesn't know — about his money? 
f Countess shakes her head.) Do I dream, Mira? 
(Mira shakes her head,) H'm, countess, you did 
well to send for me . . . (Then sharply.) What's 
he after? What's his line? 

Countess. (Anxiously) That's just it. He's 
too deep for me. Max says he thinks he was a 
king or something once . . . 

Mira. You know, professor — before he was just 
a nut. 

Balthazar. H'm. (Then sharply, to Countess J 
Where does that side partner of yours come in? 

Countess. Max? 

Balthazar. The same. 

Countess. Well, I suppose he'll want fifty-fifty. 

Balthazar. Then — I bid you good evening. 
(Starts for door.) 

CouNTBftfi. (Pursues him) Balthazar . . . 



38 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

(Clutches his arm.) Don't desert me — don't get 
sore. 

Mira. She on'y promised him, professor. 

Countess. (Quickly) That's all. 

Balthazar. H'm. (Severely.) Fifty-fifty, my 
child? 

Countess. (Crushed) I leave it all to you, Balt- 
hazar . . . 

Balthazar. Ha. Then to work. The lights 
in your crystal globe there — if I remember rightly — 
are red and white. 

Countess. Yes. 

Balthazar. Good. (To Countess.J Now lis- 
ten, my child. Unhappily — you must receive Mr. — 

% Mira. Bean. 

Balthazar. The same. (To Countess.J And, 
frankly, you may strike the eye — in fact, you do, but 
here, countess . . . (Taps forehead,) up here . . . 

Countess. (Sadly) Oh, I know— don't rub it in. 

Balthazar. Trust to me, my child. (Bell.) 

Countess. Oh, Lord. There they come already. 

Balthazar. (Sternly, takes up book from table) 
Nerves, countess? (Shakes his head; takes up his 
hat.) Admit them — flatter them — lead them on. I 
shall retire within — and gather what I may through 
the aperture. (Goes back to door.) But remem- 
ber — should the red light flash — it means danger . . . 

Countess. Danger? 

Balthazar. (Impressively) The same. But join 
me presently, Countess. We must deliberate . . . 
Ten thousand. We must indeed deliberate. (Bell 
again.) Oh, your young friends grow impatient. 
(Goes off, quickly, back.) 

Countess. (Excitedly) Mira — if that's Max an' 
Mr. Bean show 'em in here — and say I can't be dis- 
turbed 'till I've come out of the silence — and don't 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 39 

forget the lights. (Goes within.) I wait. fMiRA 
darkens the room.) 

Mira. (Going off r. to answer door) There. I 
guess that's more — atmospheric. (Goes quickly out, 
and immediately reenters, followed by Bulger and 
Bunker, who is looking very pale and solemn.) 

Bulger. (Apart to Mira, as he enters, tapping 
his coat.) I got the letter here — see? ^Mira nods, 
then turns to Bunker who is coming slowly in.) 

Mira. (Softly, with a thrill) Countess Casa- 
nova has just passed into the silence — I don't dare 
disturb her yet — Mr. Bulger, don't you and Mr. Bean 
talk too loud neither — some of her controls are that 
sensitive . . . (Lays finger on lips, and quickly, 
back.) 

Bulger. (Taking Mira's tone) Kid — this is a 
goin' to be a big night for you. I guess the countess 
controls are workin' over time this evening. (Takes 
Bunker's hat, and tosses it with his own into cosy 
corner, up stage.) 

Bunker. (Sadly) Max, things don't break right 
for me. Never have . . . 

Bulger. (His voice rising) Go on. Who saw 
the Giants shut 'em out's afternoon? You or me? 

Bunker. Sh-sh. (Then sadly.) Me. Sat in a 
box with the old man — couldn't take mv coat off — 
couldn't keep my score-card straight — Flapper asked 
so many fool questions. She doesn't know an in- 
side play from an inshoot . . . 

Bulger. (Enviously) Kid — you don't know pie 
when it's baked for you. 

Bunker. Sh-sh. Call it pie to have a woman's 
suffrage badge pinned on you — and then get ragged 
by a flapper — just when the home team's pulling 
a double? Call that pie? 

Bulger. (Seats himself l. of table) Do I? 



40 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Mince, with a slip on. Why, kid, you've made a hit 
with sweet Marie. 

Bunker. Huh. (Then, uneasily.) What — what 
d'you s'pose the countess is doing? 

Bulger. Gee, I feel sorry for that poor woman. 
Her controls keep her so busy she gets all worn 
out . . . 

Bunker. There's nothing in it for me, Max. I'm 
discouraged. There's a jinx on my trail — someone 
wished him on me when I was baptized. 

(Enter Countess, back, softly — her eyes bandaged. 
Bulger signals her entrance to BunkerJ 

Bulger. (To Bunker J Sh-sh; let her do the 
talkin' . . . Don't give her no clues — see? 

Countess. (Advancing slowly) Strange — there's 
two presences in this room. Mr. Bulger, yes — but 
I feel a more powerful presence — a hos-tile pres- 
ence . . . 

Bulger. (To BunkerJ The controls steer her 
around — never bumps into nothin' — won'erful. 

Countess. Strange — the cur'nts are confusing. 
Ha — the cur'nts grow clearer — clearer ... I see a 
B — a big B — Mr. Bean is with us. I might have 
known it was Mr. Bean. From the first — his hos- 
tile personality — has troubled my vision . . . 

Bulger. Get that, kid? 

Countess. (Shudders, nervous) My controls are 
crowding around me — out of the darkness . . . Oh. 
(Points at Bunker, who recoils.) There's a mighty 
Fate in store for you. Pomps an' — an' — Power. 
You are not what you seem. 

Bunker. (Gasps) Not — not what I seem? (To 
BulgerJ Is that what she said? Countess — go on 
— go on. 

Countess. (As before) Imperator . . . Oh — oh. 
He's tryin' to communicate . . . 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 41 

Bulger. (To Bunker} He's her biggest con- 
trol. He don't usually come unless it's awful im- 
portant ... 

Bunker. Sh-sh. 

Countess. Ha. I see a letter — Special Deliv- 
ery — yellow envelope. Strange — a letter for Mr. 
Bean — from Chicago. But — am I betraying a con- 
fidence? No, I must speak . . . Mr. Bean — your 
letter is in Mr. Bulger's inside pocket. 

Bulger. (Jumping) Gee. That's right, countess. 
(Produces letter.) See — kid — it's the letter you left 
behind you ... (Bunker takes letter.) I was 
bringin' it up to you . . . 

Bunker. My God. 

Countess. (Sharply) Don't open that letter. 
(Bunker drops it to table; Countess grabs it.) Mr. 
Bean — there's something in this letter — will change 
your whole life . . . 

Bunker. Now what. 

Bulger. (As Bunker starts to speak) Sh-sh. 

Countess. (Places envelope to her forehead) It's 
from your aunt — your uncle's dead — your trustee — 
he speculated with money your poor mother lef 
you — but he lost it all . . . 

Bunker. (In disgust) Oh, he did, did he? News 
t' me. Never knew I had money. 

Bulger. Sh-sh-sh . . . 

Countess. Your poor dear aunt had his life in- 
sured — to make restitution. Mr. Bean, there's a 
check for — for — ten thousand dollars — in that let- 
ter . . . 

Bunker. What! (Starts to grab for letter.) 

Bulger. (Seizing his arm) Wait a mo'. You'll 
scare her controls. (Bunker subsides.) 

Countess. (Returning to table) That leaves five 
thousand dollars still due you. But your poor aunt 



42 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

says she's sendin' you fifty shares of stock— and she 
hopes you'll accept it as payment in full. 

Bunker. (In a dream) Ten thousand — stock — 
fifty shares . . . 

Countess. Fifty shares of — of Federal Express. 

Bunker. (Jumping) Federal Express. 

Countess. And your poor dear aunt says she 
hopes you'll save your money and turn your talents 
to the express business. The letter's signed "Effec- 
tionately, Aunt Clara — P. S. It has rained hard for 
two days." 

Bunker. (Gasping) Ten — thousand — Federal — 
Max. 

Bulger. Some — epistle — bo. 

Bunker. (Springs up) Countess. Gimme that 
let . . . 

Bulger. (Quickly, at Bunker's ear. Crosses to 
Bunker r. of table) Now's your chance, kid. Ask 
her who you was before you was Bunker Bean . . . 

Countess. (Puts letter down behind globe and 
takes up pad and pencil which she lays before Bun- 
ker,) Write it down — fold it up tightly — since you 
will no longer be denied . . . 

("Bunker nods, and writes his question on the pad, 
holding it below the edge, then he tears top 
sheet from pad and folds it up tightly.) 

Bunker. (Tremulously) O. — O. K., countess. 

Countess. (Taking up the pad) Press the ques- 
tion to your forehead — thus. (Presses pad to her 
forehead.) Now — concentrate. Concentrate. Go 
into silence. (Bunker obeys — shuts his eyes tight 
and concentrated.) 

Countess. Don't you dare open your eyes. 
(Swiftly consults the little pad in her hands.) 

Countess. (In hollow tone — seating herself l. of 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 43 

table) He's ready — Imperator's ready. Open your 
eyes . . . ("Bunker obeys. Countess sits at table, 
passes her hand over pad and slowly scrawls upon 
it.) 

Countess. Ah, he's directing every movement. 
Oh . . . It's not my hand that's writing — it's his. 

Bulger. Get that, kid? 

Bunker. Ss-sh. 

Countess. (Pushes pad across to Bunker,) May 
v/e know your question ? 

Bunker. (Tremulously) Max — you tell her . . . 

Bulger. M' frien' Bean asked who he was be- 
fore he was jest — m' frien' Bean. 

Countess. (Removes bandage from her eyes) 
Oh, I felt that. Someone great. You've had your 
day. May we know . . . 

Bunker. (Reads from pad; awe-struck) "The 
last time you v/ere Napoleon Bonaparte" (A pause, 
then softly.) Napoleon — Emperor of France. 
(Seems suddenly to expand, his eyes flash.) Na- 
poleon. (With an imperious gesture.) Gimme that 
letter. 

Bulger. (Draws letter from beneath crystal and 
hands it to Bunker) Sure. 

Bunker. (Devouring letter) . . . um . . . "P. 
S. It has rained hard for two days." Max — it's 
all true — every word. (Flutters check before him.) 
Look. 

Bulger. (Blinking) Dassn't. I'd feel dead. 

Countess. (Chanting with clasped hands, has 
eyes on Bunker) Napoleon. Destroyer of men 
and nations. 

Bunker. (Uneasily) Destroyer . . ? 

Bulger. Say. Some smasher. An' some home- 
wrecker — they tell me. 

Countess. Ah, Mr. Bean — many's the fair woman 



44 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

you've conquered and spurned and trampled beneath 
your feet. 

Bunker. Conquered? Spurned? Trampled? 
Fair women? — women? Napoleon? 

Bulger. Why, kid, when it came to classy little 
dames there was nothing to it. He ate 'em alive. 

Bunker. Napoleon — ate 'em? 

Bulger. Sure. 

Bunker. Me? 

Countess. And you'll do it again — again — and 
again. Us poor women'll be dirt beneath your 
chariot wheels — when you rise from obscurity to 
power . . . 

Bunker. (His face falling) Max, did you hear 
her ? When I rise from obscurity ? Like Napoleon, 
she means — that's what he did, Max . . . 

Bulger. Did he. Well, say. He sure was some 
little upstart. 

Bunker. Upstart? Upstart. You're right, Max 
— that's all Napoleon was — just an upstart. That's 
all I am. Probably I'm paying up now for the sins 
I sinned . . . (Goes for his hat on cosy corner rJ 

Countess. (Gasping) Mr. Bean — you're not leav- 
ing us — like this . . . 

Bunker. (Mournfully) Oh, I know it isn't your 
fault I was only an upstart — but I'm discouraged, 
countess. It isn't what I hoped for — I'm not sat- 
isfied . . . (Starts to go.) 

Countess. (With a note of anguish) Wait. 
He's coming. 

Bulger. (Puzzled) Who's comin'? 

Countess. My friend — Professor Balthazar — the 
greatest astrologer in the world. 

(At door, back. Opens door. Enter, quietly Balt- 
hazarJ 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 45 

Bunker. (Seizing Bulger's arm) D'ye hear 
that, Max ? The greatest astrologer in the world. 

Bulger. (Sourly) Sure — let's go home. 

Bunker. Now? Max, I'm not satisfied — being 
an upstart, I'm going further back. (Countess 
gives an audible sigh of relief.) 

Balthazar. (Solemnly) Most — amazing. Most 
astounding . . . Countess Casanova, something im- 
pelled my footsteps here to-night. (Fastens his eyes 
again on Bunker. Impressively.) The opportunity 
I have been seekin' for years — stands before me. I 
must — disclose secret matters — no third party should 
overhear . . . (Bows to CountessJ Pardon me, 
madam — I must ask you to leave us. (He glares 
at Bulger.,) You, too, my young friend. 

Bulger. (Suspiciously) Go on. M' frien' Bean 
an' me sticks together. 

Balthazar. (To Bulger in a terrible voice) 
Young man — I have a sacred mission to perform. 
Beware — and — h'm — withdraw. (Points a trembling 
finger at door r.) 

Countess. (Anxiously) C'mon, Max — do. 

Bunker. (At Bulger's ear, hissing) Beat it — 
can't you. This is — my affair. 

Bulger. (Crossly) O. K., kid — suit y'self. 
(Picks up his hat and crosses e., but stops by Prof. 
Balthazar, and turns to Bunker again.) But take 
it from me. When you're playing the countess — 
you're playin' safe . . . (Glares at Balthazar J 
See. (Goes r. quickly follozved by the Countess. 
His voice raised in anger, off. Countess hastily 
shuts door, closing herself and Bulger out, and 
leaving Bunker and Balthazar alone.) 

Balthazar. You observed his impudence? An' 
my — contempt? Good. (Points to chair below 
table.) Not a word. The past of your soul lies 
bare before me. Sit there. (Bunker obeys — sit- 



46 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

ting anxiously on outer edge of chair.) (Indulgently.) 
The countess is a good woman — but she has her — 
h'm — limitations. She works in — h'm — semi-dark- 
ness. I work in the light. (Lights on.) And why? 
Because I seek the light. My clients seek the light. 
And — they receive the light. (^Bunker starts to 
speak.) Not a word. I see it all ... I see your 
past. (He holds Bunker's eye a moment.) The 
pomp and glitter of a throne. You ascend to it over 
the bodies of countless men. Power through blood. 
I cannot get the name under which you ruled — I 
see an N — No. (Snaps fingers.) The cries of your 
victims drown it. Horror piles upon horror. 

Bunker. (Leaning forward, tense — his voice un- 
certain) Horrors — that's just the way I feel about 
it . . . 

Balthazar. The name. The name. 

Bunker. (Breathlessly) Never mind that name. 
Let it go. I — I don't know it. Go on back- 
further. 

Balthazar. A statesman. The city is . . . 
(Snaps his fingers.) Venice . . . He is plotting the 
assassination of a Doge . . . 

Bunker. (Gasps) Horrors. I've had enough 
of all that battle an' killings. I don't like it. Isn't 
there something else? (Knits hands together.) 

Balthazar. (Giving Bunker a single, sharp im- 
patient glance) Oh — now I see your first appear- 
ance on this planet. ^Bunker's breath catches. 
Long pause. Snaps his fingers, then lets his eyes 
rest on Bunker's solemnly.) An Egyptian king. 

Bunker. An Egyptian king. What kind of a 
king? One of those — fighters? 

Balthazar. No, a man of vast power, but no 
violence — a wise and good king. 

Bunker. Ah. That's what I want. 

Balthazar. Your place on the Nile is — mag- 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 47 

nificent. You are tall, handsome — aristocratic — and 
— h'm — brave. (Quickly.) But you will not make 
war — as you very properly detest all violence. So 
there is little to relate of your — h'm — reign . . . 

Bunker. What was my name? 

Balthazar. (Snaps his fingers) Name. Name — 
Ram-tah. 

Bunker. (Eagerly) Ram-tah. Can I read about 
me? 

Balthazar. (Firmly) You cannot. He was the 
last of the — h'm — pre-dynastic era. Yes . . . 

Bunker. But — when did I pass on? 

Balthazar. At the age of eighty — deeply 
mourned. Your body was lovingly embalmed — and 
the mummy . . . 

Bunker. The mummy . . . 

Balthazar. The mummy laid in the royal sep- 
ulchre . . . (His voice sinks.) I see it now — 
lying there beneath the sands — calm and majestic. 
^Bunker draws in his breath sharply.) Ah — my 
young friend . . . (Rivets his eyes upon Bun- 
ker.J For you — for you — to gaze upon that 
mummy . . . (Sighs deeply and spreads his hands.) 

Bunker. (Speaking with difficulty) Professor 
— it almost seems — as if — as if that might — make 
me believe in myself — make me climb right up to the 
top . . . 

Balthazar. (Thrillingly) Why, man — could but 
you suppose — that regal form — you would rise — you 
would soar — you would reach the heights . . . 
(Pause.) 

Bunker. (Trying for a long breath) Oh. What 
wouldn't I give to — to own that — that mummy. 

Balthazar. (Quickly) Ah — what would you 
give, my young friend? (Rises.) But of course, 
humanly, it would be impossible. 

Bunker. Why — if you're sure it's there . . . 



48 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Balthazar. (Smilingly) My dear sir, you de- 
scend to the material world. As one practical man 
to another — simply because it would take more 
money than you can afford. 

Bunker. (Indignant) How do you know? 

Balthazar. True — I do not know. But — par- 
don the bluntness — can you afford it? 

Bunker. (Recklessly) What'd it cost? That's 
all. 

Balthazar. H'm — h'm . . . (Overcome by emo- 
tion, walks azvay and returns.) There's the labor 
and — the risk ... Of course my agents at Cairo 
won't work without remuneration. But, no — no. 
It would require an enormous sum. (Steps close to 
Bunker, eyeing him.) Now, f r instance — a thou- 
sand dollars . . . (Pauses; Bunker doesn't wince.) 
Wouldn't any more than start the work. Two thou- 
sand — (same business) — would further it some . . . 
Three thousand — (same business) — might see it 
pretty well advanced. Four — (same business) — 
might prove our chances — and five thousand . . . 

Bunker. Five ? 

Balthazar. (Quickly) Yes, five — I think — 
should put the thing through. 

Bunker. (Draws a long breath, his face clears) 
Fine and dandy. Go ahead, professor. 

Balthazar. (Laboring under strong emotion, 
which he tries to keep in control) There must be a 
payment down ... 

Bunker. How much? 

Balthazar. Say — h'm — a thousand . . . 

Bunker. (Doubtfully) 'Snuff. 

Balthazar. Well, perhaps not enough. 

Bunker. I'll give you two to-morrow. Give you 
the rest when you get . . . (Gulping.) When you 
get it here. 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 49 

Balthazar. (Seizing Bunker's hand in both his) 
You move me, I confess — I will undertake it. 

Bunker. How long will it be? 

Balthazar. I shall give orders by cable — a 
month, possible — if all goes well. One moment, my 
young friend. (Enters Countess r.e. Balthazar 
seats himself l. of table and writes.) 

Bunker. (Softly) Napoleon — Ram-tah— wise 
anfcl good ... A king. 

Balthazar. Now just sign this little memo — my 
young friend. It says you agree to pay me — two 
thousand dollars — h'm — to-morrow. 

Bunker. (Brightly) Right you are. (Sits r. of 
table and signs paper.) Always best to be business- 
like, I say. There. (Rises, hands paper to Balt- 
hazar. (Grasps his hand.) You don't know what 
you've done for me. 

Balthazar. I did the best I could. (^Bunker 
turns, sees Countess J 

Bunker. Ah, Countess. (Swings her hand.) 
You don't know what you've done for me. 

Countess. (Graciously) I wish I could have 
done more. 

Bunker. (At door r.) Yes, thank you — thank 
you. I — I'm a changed man. (Goes.) 

Countess. Ha, ha, he fell for it. 

Balthazar. (Sinking into chair l. of table) 
Well — anything loose in the house? 

Countess. Couple bottles beer . . . (Calls.) 
Mira. (Sits R. of table. Enter Mira, back, with 
bottles and glasses on tray.) 

Mira. (Bringing them down) I got it — I got 
it . . . (Btisiness.) 

CURTAIN 



ACT II 

Scene II : Time : A month has passed. 

Scene: Bunker's bachelor apartments, Morning- 
side heights. Long window in l. zvall with win- 
dow seat below it, overlooking roof to Palisades. 
Two doors in back wall. Entrance door from 
hall l.c. at back of shallow alcove holding a 
hat-rack. Door r.c. to a shallow closet with 
an automatic light in it, which switches on when 
door is opened. Forward in l. wall, small fire- 
place with mantel upon which stands un framed 
photograph of "The Greatest Pitcher the world 
has ever seen." 

Door R.2E. to bedroom. Round table flanked 
by armchair and divan before fireplace. On ta- 
ble, a newspaper, two magazines, and one or two 
books and telephone. Some "department store" 
etchings on the walls, chiefly of Egyptian ruins 
by moonlight. Everything very trim and neat. 
A bright warm day, about n a.m. The long 
window stands open. Key heard in lock. 

Discovered: Enter Bunker, l.c, ushering in the 
Greatest Pitcher in the world. Bunker is a 
changed man — has become an "advanced 
dresser," suit of black-and-white checks, not 
loud, but natty. Necktie of red, yellow and 
green diagonal stripes. Scarf pin. Yellow 
gloves. Whippy walking stick. Everything to 
match. His shoulders seem broader; he actu- 
ally looks taller. 

SO 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 51 

The Greatest Pitcher is a tall, clean-cut man, 
carries himself with a due sense of his own 
dignity, and is also an "advanced dresser" after 
Bunker's heart. 

Bunker. It's all right, Mr. Matthews, come right 
in. 

Pitcher. Say, Mr. Bean, nice little box you've 
got here. 

Bunker. Suits me. Fact is, m' friend, Max 
Bulger, happened to know you lived in this house — 
when you're in town. That settled me. Been 
hopin' to meet you somehow ever since I moved in. 

Pitcher. (Discovers his photo on mantel, 
pleased) Say — among those present — what? 

Bunker. (Crossing c, excited) It don't do you 
justice — now I've seen }^ou close. 

Pitcher. (Worried) Think not? I don't know. 
(Brightens.) Want me to autograph it for you? 

Bunker. Do. 

Pitcher. (Crosses to table. Scrawling his name 
across picture) To m' friend — Mr. — Bean — com- 
pliments of — Bud Matthews . . . 

Bunker. Gee. Will I put that under glass. 
(Takes photo.) Greatest left-handed pitcher the 
world has ever seen. (Replaces it on mantel r.) 
It's a gold frame for yours. (Turns to Pitcher.,) 
Funny we never met before in the elevator. I — I 
didn't like to speak first. 

Pitcher. (Affably) Well, I'm kinda shy m'self. 
But I couldn't resist askin' you for the address of 
your tailor. (Passes hand over Bunker's shoul- 
ders, admiringly.) I'm strong for the cut he gives 
you. 

Bunker. (Grins) Gee. I was wondering when 
you spoke to me who built your clothes. Distin- 
guished, I call 'em — an' a bit different. (Touches 



52 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Pitcher's sleeve.) Some cloth. That white line 
comes out great in the daytime. Oh — I see you got 
one of those patent neck capes that prevents wrin- 
kling below the coat collar. Same here. An' a 
vestee. 

Pitcher. (Business) Goes with gold pins. 

Bunker. (Business) Nach'ly. Adds dressiness. 
Say, that's some shirt. 

Pitcher. (With satisfaction) Canton silk — 
special weave. 

Bunker. (Pulls up coat sleeve) Monogram? 

Pitcher. (Matching him) Sure. What's you 
line, Mr. Bean? Sporting interests? 

Bunker. Not exactly. Finance — you might say. 
(Waves his hand.) Taking a day off. Nothing do- 
ing in the Street this morning. (Brazenly.) You in 
the box s'afternoon? (Titcher nods.) Say, if I 
ever have a kid — know what? Nothing used but 
his left hand from the cradle up — and for toys — 
one League Ball an' a bat. That's all. Of course, 
Til let him start with a light bat — naturally. 

Pitcher. Right away. 

Bunker. I'm only afraid the managers'll get 
wise and not let him finish out his college course. 

Pitcher. Like the game? 

Bunker. What else is there? I'm only keeping 
on in the Street till I put a certain deal through — 
Fed'ral Express — I don't mind telling you. Clean 
that up — then nothing but old Base B. Ball m'self — 
if money'll do it. 

Pitcher. Fine. It's the one branch of the busi- 
ness where you don't have to treat your arm like a 
sick baby. (Telephone rings.) 

Bunker. (Crosses to phone) 'Scuse me. (At 
phone.) Hey? Ah — Kennedy & Balch? How are 
you, Balch? Yep . . . (Listens.) Fed'ral Ex- 
press selling off a bit, eh? Div'dend cut, eh? 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 53 

Pshaw. What'd I care? Sure, I'll stick. (Grabs 
out pocket check book and consults it,) Say — pick 
me up a hundred more margins — will you? Well, 
then — shares. Call 'em anything you like. What? 
Inside information? Well, you see. IVe got a sort 
of plan about the stock — yeh. (Titcher rises. 
Crossly.) What d' I care how "J. B." stands ? Let 
him stand till his feet fall off. S'nothing 'me. 
How'd I stand — that's the point. Get me? 
Goo' . . . 

Pitcher. (Quickly) Hoi' on, Mr. Bean. 

Bunker. Wait a minute. 

Pitcher. I've got an account with Kennedy & 
Balch m'self. 

Bunker. Have you? Gee, I didn't know that. 

Pitcher. ("Pitcher grabs receiver) Balch? 
This is Bud Matthews — see? Buy me in a hundred 
— a — that Fed'ral Express stuff. Right, G'by. 

Bunker. (Grandly) You won't regret this, Bud. 
Take it from me. 

Pitcher. Well, Mr. Bean— you've done me one 
good turn, then maybe you'd do me another? I — 
(bashfully) — I was at Claremont th' other after- 
noon, an' I happened to notice you havin' tea with 
— with some ladies — an old lady — and two young 
ladies . . . 

Bunker. (Swelling with pride) The Miss 
Breedes — you know, daughters of old J. B. Breede. 

Pitcher. (His face falling) Not "J. B." the 
traction magnate? 

Bunker. Sure. He's head a the concern I'm 
with temporarily . . . (Offers Pitcher a cigar 
from humidor on table.) 

Pitcher. Oh, no, thanks — in that case — it's all 
off . . . (Embarrassed.) Well, of course, I didn't 
know. Fact is, one of those young ladies hit me 
pretty hard. 



54 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Bunker. (Suddenly very serious, placing humidor 
on table) Which one? 

Pitcher. T he tall girl. 

Bunker. ^ith relief) Oh — Gwendolen. Big 

Sister — I call her. 

Pitcher. Say, Mr. Bean — of course, there's noth- 
in' doin' — but she's the only girl ever knocked me 
out jf the box — first inning . . . 

Bunker. That's funny — like to meet her? 

Pitcher. (Jumping) Say — would I? 

Bunker. I'll fix it. The Flapper — that's Miss 
M'rie — 's a pal-a mine . . . 

Pitcher. Congratulations. 

Bunker. Huh. (Laughs scornfully.) Not me, 
not yet. I'm not interested in women — not that 
way. Got too much to do first. Can't be both- 
ered . . . 

Pitcher. I get you. Too ambitious, eh? 

Bunker. (Delightedly) That's it. Kipling had 
the right dope. "He travels farthest who travels 
alone ..." 

Pitcher. (Shakes his head) Maybe . . . 
(Grins.) But you looked kind of sick for a mo' — till 
I said which girl had me stalling. 

Bunker. (Worried) Did I. (Crosses r. to 
mantel.) Gee, I'll have to watch myself — I can't 
afford to get mooney — not for years yet . . . 

Pitcher. Say, Mr. Bean — take it from me. If 
the little dame wants you — she'll land you. 

Bunker. (Frowning) Huh. A girl can't make 
a man propose . . . 

Pitcher. (Grinning, crosses r. to b.) Since 
when? Say, if you can fix that little thing for 
me . . . 

Bunker. Sure. (Then suddenly.) Oh, Gee, I 
forgot. Gwen's engaged. 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 55 

Pitcher. Hell. An' me in the box s'afternoon. 
Good night. (Drops in chair.) 

Bunker. He's only a Lizzie boy. Maybe you 
could cut him out . . . 

Pitcher. Society chappy? Me cut him out — 
eh? With "J. B.'s" daughter . . . (Groans.) Nix. 
I guess I'm up against it. 

(Door bell rings. Bunker goes to door and opens 
it. Enter Bulger, l.cJ 

Bulger. Hello, Bunker. 

Bunker. Hello, Max. 

Bulger. (Entering, to Bunker,) Sorry to be 
the undertaker — but the funeral's on. 

Bunker. (His face falling) Funeral? 

Bulger. Sure thing. The old man telephoned 
just after you left. Some language. You could 
hear his foot hurting him over the phone. Doctor 
says he can't go down to the office for a week. He's 
goin' to wall you up alive in his family vault — up 
the Hudson. The automobile hearse'll be around 
here at twelve — an' you're to pack for three days. 
(Suddenly recognizes the Greatest Pitcher and 
gasps.) Ah — Gee-eg-egscuse . . . 

Bunker. (Rising to the occasion) Shake hands 
with m' friend Bud Matthews — Max Bulger — pal 
a mine. 

Pitcher. (Grasping Bulger's limp hand) That 
goes double for any pal-a Mr. Bean's. 

Bulger. (Stammering) G-gee — I — won't wash 
that hand — for a week. 

Bunker. (Claps Bulger's shoulder) Max — 
everything's comin' my way nowadays. 

Bulger. I noticed that. (Grins sourly.) You 
won't be feelin' so cocky s'afternoon. The old man 



56 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

jailed me onc't up to his ancestral mansion — wow. 
You better get busy and pack. 

Bunker. (Resentfully) Nice thing. I'm sick 
of being a wage-slave. You wait. Don't the old 
man ever chuck business? 

Bulger. J. B. ? Not. Why, the dividend's been 
cut in Fed'ral Express. (Winks.) Him an' that 
gang are up to some foxy game. Say, you own 
some — a — that stuff. (Grins.) Tough luck. I 
wouldn't be in your shoes . . . ("Pitcher looks 
worried.) 

Bunker. (Airily) Hugh. I've got a sort-a kind 
of a plan about that stock . . . (Telephone rings; 
Bunker crosses to phone.) I'm not worried. 
(Titcher looks relieved. Takes down receiver.) 
H'lo? fBuNKER listens at phone, gasps, stammers.) 
What? Y-you — d-don't mean . . . It's — here? 
Wh-hat ? o-on the way ? Here — any m-minute ? Oh, 
my God. (Hangs up receiver, pale and trembling.) 

Bulger. I told you J. B.'s car'd be round. 

Bunker. Y-yes, that's it, Max — J. B.'s car — 
here any m-minute. (Goes to him.) Would you 
mind beatin' it, Max? I-I want just a word with m' 
friend Bud — before I'm sent up the river. 

Pitcher. (Startled) Up the river . . . 

Bulger. Say, it strikes me that you're taking it 
damn hard. 

Bunker. I . . . (Gulps.) I'm disappointed, 
that's all. (Apart to Max.,) Chase yourself, old 
man, will you? Favor t'me. 

Bulger. (Puzzled) You're a funny gink. (Then 
with a shrug.) Well, I'm on my way. S'long, Mr. 
Matthews . . . (Goes up to door.) 

Pitcher. I'll have to beat it, too . . . 

Bunker. (Quickly) Now — pl-please don't, Bud. 
I — I want to explain something. 

Pitcher. (Uneasily) About Federal Express? 





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HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 57 

Bunker. No, no — not exactly. 

Bulger. Oh, say. 

Bunker. S'long, Max. 

Bulger. (His hand on knob) The Flapper called 
you up, too — right after the old man. (Grins,) Oh, 
you cuties. Can I hear bells ? Ask me. Wake me 
up any time in the night an' ask me. (Laughs un- 
pleasantly and goes. Exit l.c.J 

Pitcher. See here, Mr. Bean — what was that 
about being sent up the river ? Have you got a con- 
fession to make? 

Bunker. No. No, not like you mean. I — Bud, 
there's a big chance coming into my life — here any 
minute ... 

Pitcher. (Severely) Been gettin' in trouble^ 
eh? 

Bunker. Trouble? No — just the opposite. 
Something coming into my life — that . . . (Pause.) 
Bud — two months ago I was nobody — 'fraid of 
everybody. Why, you'd never have looked at me — 
two months ago. 

Pitcher. Pshaw. 

Bunker. That's right, but now — they can't keep 
me down, Bud. There — there's a reason. 

Pitcher. Well, I'm not askin' any info' — but I 
don't see . . . 

Bunker. Bud, I — I want to confide in you — 
(hesitates) — some day. 

Pitcher. (Worried) Any time . . . 

Bunker. (Seizes his hand and wrings it) Thank 
you, Bud. And — don't you get discouraged about 
Gwendolen. Because I'm back of you in that. You 
see — I've made a discovery — I've discovered that — 
(Door bell rings.) Oh — Lord ! (Hesitates and then 
goes back to door and opens it.) 
(Enter Cassidy, janitor of the apartment; a bully 

Irishman, always a little the worse for liquor.) 



58 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Cassidy. (Within doorway) Misther Bane, 
there's a big box come f'r ye — ixpress. (Steps into 
room.) 'T would be brackyback. Shall I open it 
for ye in the cellar? 

Bunker. No — no. Have 'em bring it up here. 

Cassidy. Tis a powerful big box . . . 

(A single knock at hall door, which Cassidy has 
left open, Enter Professor Balthazar, l.c, 
high hat in hand.) 

Balthazar. (Waving his hat, blandly) Good- 
day, my young friend. (To Cassidy. ) Now, my 
man — no excuses. See that box is handled care- 
fully. ("Cassidy goes.) 

Bunker. (Excitedly) Bud — this is Professor 
Balthazar — the biggest medium in the world . . . 
Shake hands with Bud Matthews, professor — the 
greatest pitcher the world's ever seen. 

Pitcher. How are you, professor. I didn't catch 
your line? 

Balthazar. (Haughtily) I'm a psychic, sir — an 
adept — a yogi — a . . . 

Pitcher. Oh, I get you. (Makes passes with his 
hands.) Spirits, eh? (Crosses to c. Looks hard 
at Bunker; shakes his head.) Too bad. 

Bunker. What's that, Bud? 

Pitcher. Nothing ; I must be on my way. (Goes 
to door, turns.) Say, Mr. Bean, if I was you I . . . 

Bunker. (His thoughts elsewhere) What — eh? 

Pitcher. Oh . . . (With a look of contempt 
at Balthazar.J I guess what I have on my chest 
can wait . . . 

Bunker. Well, drop in any time, Bud, when 
you're feeling lonesome. I won't forget what you 
asked me — about Gwendolen. 

Pitcher. Fine. Maybe I can do you a good 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 59 

turn — when I get a chance. (Glares at Balthazar, 
smiles to Bunker, and goes out. Exit l.c. Bal- 
thazar shuts hall door softly after Pitcher, then 
comes forzvard stealthily.) 

Balthazar. H'm — you couldn't get me to do 
it again for twice the money. The nervous strain 
IVe been under. (At Bunker's ear.) A custom- 
house detective was on our trail last night. H'm — 
but one of my men took care of him— at a dark cor- 
ner . . . 

Bunker. (Shuddering) He — he didn't . . . 

Balthazar. Oh, nothing serious. H'm — he'll be 
as well as ever in a month or so. But I mustn't 
linger, my young friend — if you'll complete my — 
honor — arium . . . 

Bunker. Yes, yes — you've done your part. (Sits 
at table and quickly writes check. Crosses R., gives 
to Balthazar. 

(Loud noise of bumping from hall. Enter two 
groaning expressmen carrying a big coffinAike box.) 

Cassidy. (Following them) Mind that corner 
now, b'ys. (Expressmen deposit box in middle 
of the room and wipe their brows.) That there 
hall's choked with dust. Where will they put it, 
Mr. Bean? 

Bunker. Right here. (Indicating a place up stage. 
Men deposit box and Cassidy exits, l.cJ 

Balthazar, (r. of Bunker. To Bunker. ) Pay 
the men liberally — and let them be on their way. 
fBuNKER hands a dollar bill to each of the express- 
men, who pocket the money without thanks and de- 
part, grinning with satisfaction. Balthazar follows 
them to door, turns.) I bid you farewell. Here's 
the key. Oh — one thing more, my young friend — 
don't handle it too much, it might disintegrate. (Goes, 



60 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

leaving hall door open. Bunker runs to door and 
shuts it. Then he stands a second in silence, con- 
templating the box. A lump rises in his throat, he 
is forced to wipe his eyes.) 

Bunker. (Reverently) Ram-tah . . . (Then 
with a gulp of satisfaction, he goes straight to box 
and unlocks the padlock which holds the lid and then 
with reverent hands lifts from the box a brightly 
painted and remarkably light mummy-case. Hold- 
ing his breath, he carries the mummy-case down 
stage r.c. and stands it up. He is motionless be- 
fore it a moment, with bowed head — then passes his 
hands tenderly over the case, and finally removes 
the painted cover and leans it against the wall. The 
swaiched mummy of Ram-tah now stands before 
him, majestic in death and wonderfully well pre- 
served. The bearded face is a rich mahogany color. 
Bunker stares at the Ram-tah, long and earnestly — 
then his breast heaves, his breath catches. Softly, 
in all reverence.) God — God, how I've changed. 
(The door bell rings sharply. Bunker jumps as 
if shot from behind — looks wildly around. The bell 
rings again. Swiftly he opens the closet door, lifts 
the mummy in its case within closet, leans it upright 
against the back wall, returns for the cover and 
is about to replace it zvhen the bell again sounds 
sharply three or four times. Bunker gasps, leans 
the cover against wall at one side of the case, jumps 
back out of the closet and shuts and locks the door. 
The bell again — a long ring. Leaving the key in 
the door, Bunker turns and almost creeps to the 
hall door, opening it only a crack.) 

Flapper. (Clearer from hall) I just perfectly 
knew you must be in here — because Mr. Cassidy 
said so. 

Bunker. (Falling back, startled) Y-y-you. 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 61 

(Enter the Flapper, calmly, closing the door after 

her.) 

Flapper. (Coming forward, happily) Of course, 
I've just been dying to know what your rooms are 
like — ever so long. Because I "think rooms always 
look more like people than they do themselves — don't 
you? (Looking round her.) So I'm perfectly go- 
ing to stare and snoop and everything. 

Bunker. (Following her about miserably) B-but 
— where's grandma? I — I've never seen you before 
without grandma. 

Flapper. (Nodding) That's just it. I knew 
you'd feel just as I do. We've never had a chance 
to get better acquainted — have we? 

Bunker. (Shocked) B-but — isn't it kind of 
queer — I mean — you being here alone — with me? 

Flapper. (Perching on arm of morris-chair) I 
think it's the darlingest joke. (Sits L.c. Gurgles.) 
I just perfectly giggled myself into spasms all the 
way down. You know — they haven't the least idea 
where I am, at home — because when the car started 
for you — I just perfectly hopped into it. 

Bunker. B-but — what'll the folks say, if . . . 

Flapper. (Decidedly) Fiddle. It doesn't mat- 
ter what they say, if . . . (Meets Bunker's eyes, 
with a frank, confiding little smile.) Besides, woman 
has been emancipated and come into her own — and 
she can just perfectly do as she pleases. Granny 
agrees with me. What have you been unpacking? 

Bunker. (Swallozving hard) Oh — some — books 
and things . . . 

Flapper. (Nodding approval) I'm so glad you 
like good reading, because I perfectly love Robert 
Chambers — don't you? Where are they? 

Bunker. (Embarrassed) In — in my bedroom. 

FLAPPER. (Points to closet door, back) In there? 



62 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Bunker. (Quickly) No — no — (points rJ — in 
there. 

Flapper. (Points to closet) Is that your bath- 
room, then? 

Bunker. (Blushing) N-no. 

Flapper. Kitchenette ? 

Bunker. No . . . 

Flapper. (Frowning an instant) What is it? 
Anyone would think you were Bluebeard — and me 
your seventh wife. (Smiles again.) But of course — 
I'm perfectly not your seventh anything — am I? 
Are you ready to start? Pops'll be perfectly furious 
if you're late. Not that it matters much. Because 
poor old Pops is perfectly furious anyway. 

Bunker. (Groaning) Oh, and I — haven't even 
packed yet. 

Flapper. (Jumps to her feet clapping her hands) 
Goody. Then I can help you. Bring your suit- 
case here and hand me your things — and I'll just per- 
fectly put them in for you. 

Bunker. B-but I couldn't let you — it wouldn't 
be . . . 

Flapper. (Crosses r. to BunkerJ Of course it 
would. It's all settled and everything. No man 
ever knows how to pack. Granny says so. Oh, what 
a stunning tie. (Straightens Bunker's tie and gives 
it a little pat.) 

Bunker. Oh, that little old last year's tie. I 
never quite dared to wear it before. Do you think 
it too different? 

Flapper. Oh, of course not. It perfectly does 
something to you. 

Bunker. Sure? 

Flapper. (Nodding) I'm sure as sure. (Frown- 
ing.) But you're not wearing my suffrage badge — 
and you promised me. 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 63 

Bunker. (Quickly) Always 'fraid I'll lose it 
somewhere — keep it in my bureau — safer . . . 

Flapper. But you must wear it. It's perfectly 
no good in your bureau. 

Bunker. I — I'll get it right away. (Goes to bed- 
room door.) 

Flapper. Don't fofget your suitcase. (Points 
again to closet.) Are your things in there? (Starts 
for closet.) 

Bunker. (Stammering) N-no — no. Nothing at 
all — empty closet — n-never use it . . . 

Flapper. Why not? 

Bunker. (Opens bedroom door) D-don't know. 
D-doesn't appeal to me somehow, that's all. (Pauses.) 
I — I've got to change my suit. 

Flapper. Well — don't be long. (Goes to chair 
L.c, R. of table. 

Bunker. Wouldn't it be . . . Hadn't you — bet- 
ter wait — downstairs? 

Flapper. Oh, splash. Silly. It just deliciously 
suits me right here. ("Flapper sits r. of table l.c.) 

Bunker. If it just deliciously suits you right 
there — it just deliciously suits me to have you stay 
right there. 

^Bunker rolls his eyes wildly, then bolts into his 
bedroom and shuts the door. A key is heard to 
turn in lock on other side of door. The Flap- 
per walks about the room, inspecting everything 
and humming happily to the accompaniment 
of the phonograph which she has started play- 
ing. At length she stops before closet door. 
Flapper glances toward bedroom — listens — then 
tries the handle of closet door. Finds it locked. 
Then — softly turns key in Jock and opens the 
door. Springs back from door, stiffling a scream 
as Ram-tah falls forward at her out of the closet. 



64 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

As the mummy strikes the floor its head breaks 
off, revealing the fact that it is stuffed with ex- 
celsior.) 

Flapper. (Gasping) Good gracious. I've just 
perfectly done it now. 

Bunker. (Calls through closed door in great 
anxiety) What is it? What's wrong? I — I can't 
come out. My collar's off. 

Flapper. (Goes to bedroom door, quickly, calls) 
N-nothing's wrong ; I almost perfectly killed myself 
falling over that old packing-case. 

Bunker. (Within, much relieved) Oh — is that 
all. 

Flapper. (Indignantly) Well, you might say 
you're a wee bit sorry. Ouch. 

Bunker. I — I am . . . Be with you — half a 
minute. 

Flapper. (Turns hastily back) Oh . . . (Lifts 
the trunk of Ram-tah and thrust it into closet, then 
collects his severed head.) I suppose you're just per- 
fectly some secret society stunt. (Shudders.) O — 
oh — I'm glad you're not a skeleton anyway. (Rolls 
head in on closet floor, softly closes door and locks 
it. Bedroom door opens and Bunker comes out, 
having changed his suit. He is carrying a closed 
suitcase.) 

Bunker. Did you hurt yourself much? 

Flapper. (Rubbing her knees) I — I should say 
so. (Smiles.) But it's better now. (Clearing ta- 
ble.) Just put that suitcase down and bring me your 
things. We must hurry. 

Bunker. Yes — we must. It's all packed. (Takes 
up his hat.) 

Flapper. (Disappointed) Oh, that isn't fair. 
Have you packed your collars? 

Bunker. Yes. 




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HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 65 

Flapper. Ties and socks — and things? 

Bunker. Yes. 

Flapper. (Hopefully) Toothbrush ? 

Bunker. Yes. I put that in the very first thing. 

Flapper. (Her face falls) Oh — dear. 

Bunker. You — you'd better go down first, M- 
M'rie. (Glances longingly towards closet.) 

Flapper. Oh. That's just perfectly the very first 
time you ever called me that — or — or anything. 
(Takes his arm.) Silly. We'll just darlingly go 
down together. 

Bunker. (As they start toward hall door) B-but. 
(Door bell rings.) Oh — Lord . . . 

Flapper. (Cocking up her chin) Fiddle. I'm not 
ashamed of being here — with you. 

Bunker. I'm not ashamed either. 

Flapper. Open it . . . Oh, splash. Then I 
will. (Opens hall door before Bunker can stop 
her.) 

(Enter the Greatest Pitcher in the world.) 

Pitcher. (Halting astoundedly) Sorry to butt in, 
Mr. Bean — I was goin' to suggest a bite of lunch — 
then go up to the grounds together — but of course. 

Flapper. (Smiling a welcome) Oh — I know 
who you are. That's your photograph — isn't it? I 
perfectly recognized you. I'm Miss Breede — my 
father employs Mr. Bean. I just called to take him 
up home in the car . . . 

Bunker. Yes — that's all — just called — Miss 
Breede, let me present Mr. Bud Matthews — pal of 
mine. 

Flapper. Oh, splash, silly. You are so slow. 
We just perfectly knew each other. I'm mad 
about baseball. Bunker's teaching me to talk it. lie 
raves about you. What time is it? 



66 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Pitcher. (Gasping) Half-past twelve . . . 

Flapper. Oh — then we couldn't possible get home 
for lunch. That's splendid — because we can all just 
perfectly have lunch together. (To Bunker. ) We 
can drop Bud Matthews at the grounds on the way, 
you know — so that's all settled and everything. 

Pitcher. Two's company, isn't it? 

Flapper. I know. But Bunker says you're 
the greatest left-handed pitcher in the world — and 
I want to ask you why you use your left hand and 
what a spit-ball is and all about it. (To Bunker. ) 
Come on .' . . 

Bunker. (Grandly) It's all right, Bud — old man. 
(They start up.) 

Flapper. (Suddenly stops.) Oh, you've forgot- 
ten it again. 

Bunker. (His thoughts on Ram-tah) No, I 
hadn't. What. You don't mean . . . 

Flapper. Care? Of course I care. I want you 
to wear it. Always. 

Bunker. Wear . . . 

Flapper. My suffrage badge, silly. 

Bunker. (With relief) Oh — oh — must have 
slipped my mind somehow — I'll get it right away. 
(Dashes into bedroom, taking suitcase with him.) 

Flapper. (Goes to door) Fiddle. We perfectly 
must start. I'll ring the elevator bell. (Retreats 
rapidly from door, seizing greatest pitcher's arm and 
dragging him down stage with her. In a whisper.) 
Mr. Bud, Mr. Bud — wait a minute. 

Pitcher. What is it ? 

Flapper. It's Gwen. 

Pitcher. Gwen. 

Flapper. My sister. 

Pitcher. (Starts for door) Gee. Where? 

Flapper. Stop. She's snooping. (On sudden 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 67 

thought.) Mr. Bud — you let her in — and tell her 
Bunker started off with me long ago. 

Pitcher. B-but . . . 

Flapper. Oh, you'll think of something. It's all 
settled and everything. Wait . . . (Before he can 
detain her, she runs into bedroom and shuts door. 
Door bell rings.) 

Bunker. (Off stage R.) You mustn't come in. 

Pitcher. Couldn't you wait long enough to in- 
troduce us? Oh, of course not. 

(Greatest pitcher hesitates a second; then, with a 
sudden look of determination, goes to door and 
opens it. Big Sister sails in past him. He 
follows her down r. of her, admiration in his 
eyes.) 

Big Sister. Who are you? 

Pitcher. Matthews is my name. You're Miss 
Breede . . . 

Big Sister. How do you know me? 

Pitcher. I don't. Wish I did — unless you're 
willing to chance this as an introduction . . . (His 
frank smile disarms her.) 

Big Sister. (Struck by the big fellow's manly 
figure and pleasant face) But how do you know 
my name? 

Pitcher. I saw you the other day — at Clare- 
mont — having tea with my pal — Mr. Bean. I could 
hardly wait to ask him. He — he promised me — I 
should meet you sometime. That makes this O. K., 
doesn't it? 

Big Sister. (Bursts out laughing) So you're a 
"pal" of Mr. Bean's? I might have guessed it. 
You . . . (Laughs.) You're almost as quaint as he 
is. (Suddenly.) By the way, where are they? 

Pitcher. Who? 



68 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Big Sister. Don't pretend ignorance, Mr. . . . 

Pitcher. Matthews — Bud Matthews . . . 

Big Sister. (The name means nothing to her) 
Mr. Matthews, Mr. Bean and my kid sister are up 
here somewhere — and they need a chaperone. 

Pitcher. Oh, now I get you, Miss Breede. Too 
bad, you've missed them. They started off thirty 
minutes ago . . . 

Big Sister. (Sweetly) Oh, no, they didn't Mr. 
Matthews. Father's car still downstairs — and I 
asked the chauffeur . . . 

Pitcher. (Blankly) Oh — Gee. (Laughs boy- 
ishly.) I guess we're caught with the goods . . . 

Big Sister. (Triumphantly) Ha. M'rie'll catch 
it for this. The idea of her coming down here 
alone — where are they? 

Pitcher. (Nods toward bedroom) Hiding — in 
there. 

Big Sister. Isn't that Mr. Bean's — bedroom? 

Pitcher. Well, you see . . . 

Big Sister. Oh, this is too much. When mother 
hears this . . . (Starts for bedroom door.) 

Pitcher. (Steps quickly between her and door) 
Wait a mo' — Miss Breede . . . 

Big Sister. (Indignantly) How dare you . . . 

Pitcher. Now — don't get sore. Listen — you 
know it's all right. They heard your voice — and 
just ran to hide. Is — is your mother out there? 
(Nods toward hall.) 

Big Sister. No. Mr. Whepple — my fiance. He's 
watching the elevator, if he isn't asleep. 

Pitcher. Ah — fine. See here, Miss Breede — if 
you're engaged — you ought to understand. (Points 
with thumb to bedroom door.) Those two kids. 
That's all they are — kids. Love's young dream. 
Gee, I envy them — that's right. Come — we are just 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 69 

goin' to have lunch together — let's make it a party 
— on me, eh? What'd you say? 

Big Sister. Really — I admire — your nerve. 

Pitcher. (With boyish smile) Promise me you 
won't tease 'em — Miss Breede. Y'know — they're 
just at the sensitive stage . . . 

Big Sister. (Disarmed — smiling back) You're 
wonderful. I begin to think better of Mr. Bean — 
if you're a.— (giggles) — "pal" of his. 

Pitcher. Fine. (Throws open bedroom door — 
Bunker and the Flapper, who have been leaning 
against it, stumble forward together to the room.) 
It's all right — everybody. 

Big Sister. Marie. 

Pitcher. Miss Breede and her — fiance — are go- 
ing to join us — we'll have a jolly bite of lunch to- 
gether. 

Big Sister. M'rie, how undignified. 

Pitcher. Now don't let's waste any moie conver- 
sation — till we can all take it easy . . . 

(At this moment, Ernest Whepple, a sleepy, 
stupid-looking scion of the 400, appears in hall 
doorway.) 

Ernest. I say, Gwen, old girl — I'm tired watchin' 
that lift. 

Flapper. Hello, Ernie. We're all going to lunch 
together. Come in and meet Mr. Matthews. (Ern- 
est lounges forward — see Greatest Pitcher and stops 
dead, his jaw dropping.) 

Ernest. Oh — I say. Never hoped to have the 
honor of meetin' you, sir . . . 

Big Sister. (Looking puzzled — to Greatest 
Pitcher) Would you mind telling me who you are, 
anyway? (Greatest Pitcher grins.) 

Bunker. (Horrified) What. You dont know? 



70 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Flapper. Gwen. 
Ernest. That's a good one. 
Pitcher. (Offering arm) Let us lead the way, 
Miss Breede — this is our party. 

Ernest. (Doubtful) I say. Your party? 

("Big Sister hesitates a second; looks at Ernest, 
then at Greatest Pitcher — laughs suddenly and 
takes Greatest Pitcher's arm.) 

Big Sister. Come along, Mr. Matthews. I'm 
sure you're not a duke — so you must be a million- 
aire . . . (They pass out.) 

Bunker. (Disgustedly) Millionaire. 

Pitcher. I'll tell you on the way down. (Titcher 
and Big Sister exit l.c, arm in arm.) 

Ernest. (Following) But hang it all, Gwen — 
you promised me . . . (Tlrnest exits l.c.J 

Flapper. (Grabs Bunker's arm and gets him as 
far as the door l.c J 

Bunker. (Breaking from her) You go on ahead 
— M'rie. I — I've forgotten something . . . 

Flapper. (Pats suffrage badge on his lapel) No, 
you haven't, Bunker. 

Bunker. Yes, yes, I have, M'rie. No man ever 
knows how to pack. I — I've forgotten my razor. 

Flapper. As if that mattered 

Bunker. (Feeling his cheek) Oh, I simply 
mustn't leave without my razors — please . . . 

Flapper. Well — don't be long. (Goes out hall 
door l.c.J 

Bunker. (Quickly shuts hall door. Then mur- 
muring) "Ram-tah." (Runs to closet door, and just 
starts to open it for a last look, when the Flapper 
flings open the hall door again, crying out as she 
sees him at closet door.) 

Flapper. (Wildly) Bunker. 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 71 

Bunker. ^Bunker has shut closet door instantly 
as Flapper has opened the hall door. He turns key 
in lock, picks up traveling bag as Flapper drags him 
off stage L.cJ Ah — ah . . . 

QUICK CURTAIN 



ACT III. 

"I've got the right to choose the father 
of my own children/' 

Time : Afternoon of the same day, about 2 :oo. 

Scene: Morning room of Pops' mansion, West- 
chester County. Big fireplace in r. wall banked 
with flowers. Three French windows at back 
r.c, c. window open to ground. Seats in front 
of other two windows. Hallway through large 
arch at l.c, stairway seen through hall. En- 
trance below stairs to front of house. Door 
L.2E., closed, to Pops' den. Interphone with 
row of buttons to press for communication with 
the different room of the house; hanging on 
wall, l.c.r. of window. 

Discovered : The Waster. He is curled up in mel- 
ancholy mood on the davenport, smoking cigar- 
ettes and reading a newspaper. Enter from 
hall l., Julia, his mother, dressed for shop- 
ping. 

Julia. (Much annoyed) Clarence, where is 
Marie ? 

Waster. (Without looking up) Slightest idea. 

Julia. Well, I want her. 

Waster. (Mutters) You can have her. 

Julia. Imagine her going out to lunch some- 
where without informing me or anybody. She's 
growing far too independent. 

72 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 73 

Waster. Take it out on granny, not me. It's 
her fault. (Up around R.c.J Votes for women. 
(To wind 'ow c.) 

Julia. I've asked everybody but your father. 
(Points to den.) Your father is there? 

Waster. Better let him stay there. He's been 
expecting young Boston Beans since before lunch. 
He's wild. 

Julia. Oh, I wish the poor man didn't have gout. 
It sounds well, but it's so awful for the family. 
(Starts to den, then stops, decides not to risk it.) 
Well, I can't wait — I shall punish Marie for this. 
(Going.) 

Waster. Say, Mops. 

Julia. Yes . . . 

Waster. I'm a bit strapped. Let me have a 
hundred, won't you? 

Julia. Certainly not, I gave you fifty dollars yes- 
terday. 

Waster. Yes, but I spent that two weeks ago. 

Julia. (At hall door) Tell Marie I'm very angry 
with her. 

Waster. Say, Mops, if you'll give me a hundred, 
I'll spank her for you. 

Julia. Don't be vulgar, Clarence. (Exits l.c. up- 
stairs.) 

Bunker. (Entering with Flapper and Louis with 
suitcase from r.c, happily) Glad you noticed that, 
Marie. Fact is, always make a point of speaking to 
every policeman I pass nowadays. How are you 
officer, or just wave my hand, see? Fine fellow, of 
course, there was a time when I wouldn't have 
dared . . . (See WasterJ Oh. How are you, 
Mr. Clarence? (Slowly waving hand.) 

Waster. (Ignoring Bunker,) H'lo, Chubbins. 

Flapper. (To chauffeur, ignoring Waster,) Take 



74 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Mr. Bean's suitcase up to the blue bedroom . . . 

Louis. Yes, miss. 

Waster. (To Flapper, protesting) Blue bed- 
room. I say, but Ernie's stopping here to-night . . . 

Flapper. (To chauffeur, with emphasis) To the 
blue room, and Louis, unpack it at once. 

Louis. Yes, miss. 

Bunker. Yes, and Louis, I'll make it all right 
with you. 

Louis. Yes, sir. (Exits upstairs l.c.) 

Waster. (To Flapper ) Where've you been? 

Bunker. Been? Oh, little old lunch, Clare- 
mount. Tea and things . . . 

Waster. (To Flapper,) Well, Mops is crazy. 
I've a good mind to tell on you. 

Flapper. Snoop cat. You can't just perfectly 
tell. 

Waster. Would, if she hadn't turned me down 
for a measly hundred . . . 

Bunker. (Magnificently) I can let you have a 
hundred or so . . . 

Waster. (Taken aback) What. 

Bunker. If it's a convenience . . . 

Waster. Convenience, whew, have you been rob- 
bing a bank ? 

Bunker. (Cheerfully) Oh, no, just shearing a 
few lambs, you might say. Bulls and bears, Wall 
Street, Federal Express . . . 

Waster. Federal . . . 

Flapper. Why, Pops knows all about Federal 
Express. 

Bunker. Oh, not quite all — I mean — I beg your 
pardon. 

Flapper. Poor old Pops. (To Clarence. ) Isn't 
Bunker perfectly splendid. 

Waster. (Puzzled a moment) Bunker, oh . . . 
(Then to BunkerJ Well, really, old top, since you 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 75 

ask me, I am a bit strapped. Only need it a few 
days, you know . . . f Bunker takes out check 
book.) 

Flapper. Don't do it, Bunker, he'll just throw it 
away. 

Bunker. Plenty more where this comes from. 

Waster. I say, I'd be awfully obliged . . . 

Bunker. Nothing less consequence. (Writes 
check.) Three hundred see you through? 

Waster. You're a king. (Takes check.) 

Bunker. Oh, well, can't help it, runs in my 
family. 

Waster. (Pocketing check) Wish it ran in mine. 
I've got a bit on the game s'afternoon. 

Flapper. Clarence. 

Waster. May be able to square this to-morrow. 

Bunker. Gee, I'd rather get to that game than be 
President. (Groans.) No chance, and my friend 
Bud Matthews in the box, at that. 

Waster. (Impressed) D'you know Bud Mat- 
thews ? 

Bunker. Do I? Sure, he's a pal a mine. 

Waster. You're a little bit of all right. Well, 
anything I can do for you — any time. 

Big Sister. (Re-entering from garden r.c.J 
Come and make up doubles, Clare . . . 

Waster. Hello. 

Big Sister. Ernie and Phyllis are waiting. 

Waster. Can't — just off to game . . . 

Big Sister. Now don't be nasty. (Go to him.) 
Ernie's no good. You can make your expenses for 
a month out of Ernie. ("Clarence frowns.) Of 
course I have to play with him, because we're en- 
gaged . . . 

Waster. All right, then, if he'll put up something 
worth while, you're on. 

Big Sister. You can't afford to miss any tricks 



76 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

with the high cost of loafing all over the place ... 

Waster. Oh, Gwen . . . 

Ernest. (Entering r.c .)' Gwen — Gwen, old girl. 
I say, are you still mussy with me? 

Big Sister. (Disgusted) Do I look mussy? 

Ernest. No, but you sound mussy. That's worse. 
Gwen, I never said you flirted with him. 

Big Sister. You did so, Ernest Whepple. You 
said I flirted with a professional ball player, just 
like a chorus girl. 

Bunker. (Shocked, to FlapperJ Oh, did you hear 
him say that? 

Ernest. (To Big SisterJ I never. I said — no- 
body but a chorus girl would. 

Big Sister. And of course, Ernie, dear, you 
know all about chorus girls. 

Bunker. She didn't mean that — does she . . . 

Flapper, Silly. 

Ernest. (To WasterJ Clare, my boy, you know 
I don't run with anybody but Gwen. Put in a word 
for a chap . . . 

Big Sister. As if I'd take Clare's word for any- 
thing. 

Waster. Thank you, sweetness. (Yawns, lounges 
off, exit window R.c. ) 

Ernest. Mr. Bean, did I say Gwen flirted like 
a chorus girl? 

Bunker. Well, not — exactly . . . 

Big Sister. (Triumphantly) There, you see, 
that proves it. 

Ernest. Did I, Marie? 

Flapper. Oh, splash, Ernie, it perfectly doesn't 
matter what you said. 

Big Sister. Besides, if I want to flirt like a 
chorus girl, I don't have to ask your permission. 

Ernest. Oh, Gwen. 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN yj 

Big Sister. We're not married yet, darling, not 
nearly . . . (Exit l., below stairs.) 

Ernest. Gwen. Oh, I say, I asked you not to 
get mussy, Gwen . . . (Exit at window R.cJ 

Flapper. Poor old Ernie, he won't last long. 

Bunker. Won't he? Fine. I wish Bud could 
hear that. 

Flapper. Oh, wasn't that little old lunch per- 
fectly ducky. And I know now how many lumps 
you take, and everything. (Points to den.) You'd 
better hurry right in there, or Pops will be murder- 
ing someone. We're awfully late . . . 

Bunker. (Nervously) Is his foot very bad? 

Flapper. Oh, no, I think it's mostly his language. 
(Starts off l.) I'll see your room's all right . . . 

Pops. (Just then door opens of den, and Pops 
appears, hobbling with cane, savagely) Where the 
devil's that boy a mine, hasn't he . . . (Sees Bun- 
kerJ Oh, take letter, N. J. Haskins, Cin'nati, dear 
sir . . . (Continues without break, hobbles across 
to easy chair. Bunker snatches paper and pencil 
from table and drops into straight chair at upper 
end of table.) Replying yours 23rd instant would 
say ouch, damn that foot, don't take that . . . (To 
Flapper.,) What devil you standing there for lis- 
tening me swearing — no place for you — ged out . . . 
(^Flapper gives Bunker a sympathetic look and 
vanishes, slipping off through hall, laughing, and up- 
stairs.) Where was I . . . 

Bunker. (Patiently) . . . and would say . 

Pops. Haugh. Regarding Federal 'Spress hope 
to have more definite an' interesting news for you 
within week, your truly . . . (Takes out some sheets 
of paper from pocket) Here . . . (Hands them to 
BunkerJ Copy these for me, had to write 'em out 
myself. Humiliating — where you been all day, 
had'ye lunch? 



78 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Bunker. (Quickly) Oh, yes, sir, Claremont — 
tea and things . . . 

Pops. Take letter to W. W. Cummings, San 
Cisco, dear sir. Tea and things, cocktails, eh. Bad 
for you, m' boy. Start dieting young — you'll live 
longer . . . 

Bunker. (Without freshness) Yes, sir, but I'd 
rather live shorter and better. 

Pops. What's you say . . . 

Bunker. Letter, W. W. Cummings . . . 

Pops. Stuff. Conditions market present impos- 
sible, any action my part . . . (To Bunker. ) Who 
ja lunch with — alone? 

Bunker. No, sir. 

Pops. Any action on my part — spending your 
money on girls, eh? 

Bunker. Oh, no, Mr. Breede, Bud Matthews 
wouldn't let me. 

Pops. Who wouldn't? Bud Matthews, not the 
Bud . . . 

Bunker. Why, there's only one . . . 

Pops. Any action on my part, your truly . . . 
(To BunkerJ He's in box this afternoon . . . 

Bunker. Yes, sir. 

Pops. Haugh. Damn fool doctor won't let me 
go to game. So you know Bud Matthews . . . 

Bunker. (Heartily) Sure, beg pardon, sir ; Bud's 
a pal a mine. 

Pops. You don't say. (Stares, scratches head.) 
Know Bud Matthews, puzzle to me . . . (Rises.) 
Ouch, damn. Rush letters. (Hobbles back to den. 
Bunker picks up typewriter and follows him.) 

Pops. (Turning on him) Put 'at down. Work 
out here. Can't stand noise to-day. Can't stand 
anything. (Goes into den, muttering curses, slams 
door. Enter Louis from hall h.c.) 

Bunker. Do I know Bud Matthews! 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 79 

Louis. (Down r.c, to BunkerJ Yes, sir. 

Bunker. Yes, sir, what? 

Louis. Yes, sir. 

Bunker. Oh, you're Louis, are you? 

Louis. Yes, sir. 

Bunker. Oh, I see. (Taking roll of bills from 
pocket and giving one to Louis.J 

Louis. Thank you, sir. (Going.) 

Bunker. Nothing of less consequence. 

Louis. Yes, sir. (Exit to hallway. Bunker 
goes to table l.c, find a paper beside the typewriter 
and is about to set to work when the buzzer on 
house interphone sounds. Looks round puzzled. 
Buzzer sounds again. He locates it, hesitates, then 
goes to phone, takes receiver down gingerly.) 

Bunker. Hello. (Then in relief.) Oh, Marie, 
not a regular phone, eh. Between rooms? Dis- 
tinguished, I call it. Yes, he's gone in, oh, not so 
worse, sure two pillows suit me all right, only use 
one but I've no objections to the other lying round, 
good-bye . . . (Hang up, cock eye at phone, then 
return to work. Pound keys, Grandmother the 
demon enters from hall. Goes directly to down 
stage windozv seat r. and seats herself. Bunker 
watches her cross, then quickly removes suffrage 
badge from lapel, and stuffs it in his pocket. Rise 
and she sits herself.) 

Grandma. No ceremony with me, young man. 
Keep right on with your work. I like to watch it. 
(Sharply. Bunker sits and thumps keys, squirming 
uncomfortably in chair. She produces cigarette, 
lifts one foot and lights match. Bunker looks up 
startled, she lights cigarette, he meeting her eyes 
bows head quickly over machine, rattles at keys furi- 
ously. Enter Flapper from hall.) 

Flapper. Don't let me disturb you. (Over l. 



80 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

curls up in chair, fastens eyes on embarrassed Bun- 
ker. Suddenly.) Oh, you've lost your badge. 

Bunker. Hang it . . . (Quickly.) No, no, that 
is, just keep in my pocket while I'm working — safer. 

Grandma. Uh . . . 

Bunker. (Meets her eye) Beg pardon . . . 

Grandma. Go right ahead, young man, just as if 
I wasn't here. (Pounds keys desperately, then draws 
letter from machine.) 

Flapper. There, now he's through, Grandma. 

Grandma. (£risply) How old are you . . . 

Bunker. (Trying to be jauntly) Let me see, 
I'm 23, last Tuesday. ("Grandma and Flapper nod 
approval to each other. Bunker hastily puts a fresh 
sheet into typewriter.) 

Grandma. Smoke . . . 

Bunker. (Trying to start letter throughout scene) 
No. 

Grandma. Drink. 

Bunker. No. 

Grandma. Got any bad habits, ever take drugs. 

Bunker. (Rattled) I, well, I used to take sulphur 
and molasses every spring, but I never kept it up 
after I left home. 

Grandma. Uh — how's your health. Ever been 
sick much. 

Bunker. Had lumbago when I was seven. 

Grandma. Humph, gamble, play cards, bet on 
races, go around raising Cain with a lot of young 
devils at night? 

Bunker. No, I don't. (Defiantly.) 

Flapper. (Ecstatic) I perfectly knew he didn't. 
I knew she'd admire you. (To Grandma.J How 
do you like his hair brushed that way . . . 

Grandma. Um. I don't know. (Doubtfully to 
Bunker.,) What in time have you done? Haven't 
you ever had any fun . . . 




00 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 81 

Bunker. (Hotly, jumping up) Damn it all, 
you've made me leave out a word . . . 

Grandma. (Nods to FlapperJ Good, he shows 
signs of life. 

Flapper. (Jumps up) I should perfectly think 
so. And he's over an inch taller than I am, too. 

Grandma. (Measuring Bunker with her eye) 
A-um . . . 

Flapper. You show her. (Grabs his arm, whirls 
him around and stands with back to his.) 

Grandma. Stand up straight, you're scrooch- 
ing . . . 

Flapper. Not a weeniest bit. 

Grandma. Um — well, Marie's like her father. 
She never set her mind on anything yet a — that she 
didn't get it. ('Bunker whirls around in alarm, 
only to meet the Flapper's determined little smile, 
just as Pops sticks his head out of den L.2EJ 

Pops. C'me here, take letter President Wilson 
Washington Executive Mansion . . . (Disappears 
into den still dictating. Bunker, his whole being 
expressing relief, grabs paper and pencil and bolts 
across den, shutting door after him.) 

Flapper. (Happily) It's all right, Grandma. 
My mind's just perfectly made up. 

Grandma. Now, Marie, be sensible, how can you 
know. A child your age. 

Flapper. (Calmly) I knew it the very first sec- 
ond I ever saw him, outside the office. Then Pops 
had just climbed into the car grunting like anything. 
He was on the sidewalk and bowed. I asked Pops 
who he was, and when I looked back, something 
went over me just like that. I can't tell how, but I 
knew . . . 

Grandma. But you can't tell about him. 

Flapper. Oh, splash. I know about him just 



82 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

the same way. You can't tell how, it perfectly comes 
over you . . . 

Grandma. Um . . . 

Flapper. He makes me furious sometimes, too. 
Doesn't know his own mind or anything. Just be- 
cause he's a man. But it's sure to be all right 
soon. Sure as sure, you'll see. 

Grandma. (Resigned) Well, there's going to be 
an awful rumpus. You mother'll never see it our 
way . . . ("Bunker opens door of den and starts 
cautiously out, closing door quietly.) 

Flapper. (Whose back is to door) Grandma, I 
don't care. Fve got the right to choose the father 
of my own children, Fve got the right . . . ("Bun- 
ker jumps with horror and reaches for the door 
knob to retreat again, but Grandma sees him.) 

Grandma. Come here, young man. 

Bunker. Oh, over there, you mean. 

Grandma. No nonsense, come here to me, sit 
down. (Seizes his hand, seated, Grandma between 
Bunker and her, holding their hands.) You're a 
couple of children. Why, when I was your age, 
why I was married two years . . . 

Flapper. Had you, Grandma? 

Grandma. And your father, my little Jim, was 
crawling about under my feet as I did the house- 
work. (To BunkerJ Are you listening? 

Flapper. Are you? 

Bunker. I — I — almost think I heard you. 

Grandma. (To Bunker,) People married early 
then — stayed married — and raised big families ; they 
didn't wait to grow rich first. Why, Tom, your 
father's father, my dear, hadn't much when I took 
him. Just some cleared land and a yoke of nice fat 
steers. 

Bunker. Nice fat steers? 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 83 

Grandma. (Severely) Yes, to plow with; that 
makes you smile, eh? 

Bunker. No, no, on the contrary . . . 

Grandma. Humph, I'll say frankly that I 
wouldn't marry you myself . . . 

Flapper. (Indignantly) Grandma . . . 

Grandma. Well, that's nothing to his discredit, 
and it isn't a question of me anyway . . . (Turns 
on Bunker. J Every woman with a head on her 
knows what she wants when she sees it. And now- 
adays, thanks to the efforts of a few noble leaders 
of our sex, she has the right and courage to take it. 

Bunker. (Wretchedly) I — I beg your pardon. 

Grandma. You needn't. (Nods to Flapper. J 
I haven't wasted any time talking to her. If she 
doesn't know at nineteen — she never will . . . 

Bunker. 'Never will know? 

Grandma. Exactly. (Rises, turns a little, then 
back.) Well, I might talk a lot of that stuff about 
marriage being a serious business, but I shan't. Mar- 
riage isn't half as serious as living alone is — eh? 

Bunker. (Weakly) Well, I've always lived 
alone. 

Grandma. Oh, don't tell me what you've always, 
that isn't the point . . . 

Bunker. Wh-what is the point? 

Grandma. (Disapprovingly) Hum — the point is 
— that first, last, always, it depends on the girl — and 
I don't believe in long engagements. 

(Stares at him severely a moment, then turns and 
walks off l.c. and upstairs. Bunker and Flap- 
per are l. side by side on the window seat. 
They are silent. Bunker keeps trying to swal- 
low, she starts to rise, suddenly Bunker is on 
his feet clasping her tightly in his arms and kiss- 
ing her.) 



84 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Bunker. Marie . . . 

Flapper. I knew it, I knew it, ever so long ago, 
from the very first moment. 

Bunker. (Stammering, aghast at what he has 
done) Di — did you ... 

Flapper. Something went over me, just like that. 
When did you first know? 

Bunker. (Gulping) Me? From, from the very 
first, something went over me — just like that . . . 

Flapper. You made me so afraid of you . . . 

Bunker. Me ? Never meant to — couldn't help it. 

Flapper. I'm horribly shy, but I knew it had to 
be. I felt powerless. 

Bunker. I know ... (Is about to take Flap- 
per in his arms again when Pops comes hobbling out 
from den.) 

Pops. Where's the letter. (Sees two figures to- 
gether.) Gr-e-e-e-eat Godfrey. 

Flapper. (Calmly grabs Bunker's sleeves and 
pretends to be removing speck from eye) There, 
now, twirl the other eye. Oh, oh, Pops, Mr. Bean 
has something in his eye . . . 

Pops. (Suspiciously) Humph . . . jest what I 
was thinking . . . (Starts at them.) 

Flapper. (Pretending a successful operation) 
There now you can finish your letters . . . (Apart.) 
Leave it to me. Leave it all to me, I've always man- 
aged . . . 

Pops. (Suspiciously) What's that? 

Flapper. I told him if it hurts he must rub the 
other eye. (Crossing to hall, light-heartedly.) See 
you all later. 

^Bunker is speechless, to cover his confusion he 
rubs the other eye industriously. Enter man 
servant, who announces.) 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 85 

Louis. Mr. Larabee. 

Pops. Send him in. (Exit servant, to Bunker.,) 
Sed down. Been waiting for him. Know why . . . 

Bunker. (Brightly as to a pal) Business, I sup- 
pose, Mr. Breede. Big pot open . . . 

Pops. Haugh . . . 

(Enter Larabee l.c.J 

Larabee. Breede, there's a leak in your office. 
Plug pulled this morning. Kennedy and Balch bid- 
ding Federal up to the ceiling . . . 

Pops. Hoi' on, Larabee, just a moment . . . 
(Sharply, turns to Bunker.J You got fifty shares 
Fed'ral 'Spress stock, ain't you. 

Bunker. (Surprised) Yes, sir. 

Pops. How long you had it. 

Bunker. Aunt bought it five years ago. 

Larabee. (Impatiently) But really, J. B. 

Pops. Wait . . . (To Bunker .) Want a sell? 

Bunker. I think not, just now, you see, I have 
a kind of a sort of a plan about that stock . . . 

Larabee. Plan, hear that, J. B. 

Pops. Wait — can'tcha . . . (To Bunker J Lar'- 
bee phoned me half an hour ago, you been buying 
Fed'ral 'Spress lately from Kennedy and Balch on 
margin, that's so. 

Bunker. Yes. You see, I've sort of a . . . 

Pops. Don't say that again, how much d'you hold 
—eh? 

Bunker. A block or two, several margins of it. 

Larabee. Ah, ha, how many shares . . . 

Bunker. (Imitating Larabee's manner) Have 
to ask Kennedy and Balch, my brokers, I guess, 
about some seven or eight hundred . . . 

Pops. Plain enough. Leak in the office. Who's 
behind you? 



86 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Bunker. Ram-tah . . . 

Pops. Eh — what . . . 

Larabee. Who? R. M. Taw? 

Pops. Who's that? Know him, Larabee? 

Larabee. Some low down shyster. Snake in the 
grass. We'll get his number. • 

Pops. Been plowing with our heifer, eh? 

Bunker. (Scornfully) Your heifer. No, I 
bought a good fat yoke of steers to do my plowing. 
(Larabee furious, Pops grins, then meeting Lara- 
bee's frown.) 

Larabee. Come, come, come. ("Bunker laughs.) 

Pops. What's the joke? 

Bunker. Come, come, come, sounds like a song 
a friend of mine wrote: Break, break, break. 

Larabee. We'll break you, you young puppy. 
This will never do with us. How much — how 
much? 

Bunker. Really, you don't interest me. 

Pops. What! 

Larabee. Now, J. B., one moment. (To Bunker.,) 
Think we can allow that sort of underhanded work. 
Where'd the world be, where'd it be. Have to give 
those shares up, sooner or later. 

Pops. The sooner the safer, young man. 

Larabee. Quite so, quite. Sign an order . . . 
(Takes out gold pen.) Tell me what you paid, take 
your word for it. 

Bunker. (Wearily) Oh, put up your trinkets. 

Larabee. Shrimp. 

(Again Pops grins, but on meeting Larabee's eyes, 
frowns. Bunker walks up to French window 
with dignity, stands with back to them, staring 
out, arms folded, legs little apart like Napoleon, 
They stare at him.) 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 87 

Pops. Puzzle, to me. Swear I can't make him 
out. 

Larabee. Dammit, J. B., assert yourself. (Draws 
him down stage.) 

Pops. (Cautiously) Can't. Only stenographer 
ever found gimme minute's peace. Dunno why, talk 
awri — he understands me. Jes' drive me 'sane. 
(Glances round at Bunker's back again. Shakes 
head.) 'Fraid he'll get mad's ell, and quit me. 

Larabee. (Sternly) Here, leave him to me. Now, 
young man, our patience is exhausted. We offer 
you one more chance to make restitution for this 
betrayal of trust . . . (TBunker faces hint, nerves 
shaken.) You're a mere boy. We hope to be merci- 
ful, but you are evidently a hardened character. 
You've acted on secret information . . . 

Pops. Feloniously obtained. 

Larabee. Precisely. (Pause, Bunker tries to 
keep stiff upper lip.) If you persist in your crim- 
inal defiance . . . 

Pops. Haugh. We shall 'yoke the majesty of 
the law. 

Bunker. The law. (Miserably.) But — but — 
but . . . 

Larabee. No buts. 

Pops. No 'scuses. 

Larabee. Come now, this is your last chance. 
(Sits at table, grabs sheet of paper, takes out gold 
fountain pen, and begins writing.) Just a little 
memorandum to say you promise to deliver your en- 
tire holdings of Federal Express to me for . . . 
(Looks up.) For how much, J. B.? 

Pops. Oh, might's well be gen'rous. Make it 
par. 

Larabee. (Filling in paper) Good, sign . . . 
(Offers pen to BunkerJ 



88 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Bunker. Really, I don't quite understand. 

Pops. That's plain enough. 

Larabee. Not necessary anyway. 

Pops. Well, why don't you sign? 

Bunker. But you see, I have a kind of a sort 
of a plan about . . . 

Pops. There you go again, ouch, damn. Drive 
me 'sane. 

Bunker. But — I feel — I ought to consult . . . 

Pops. Who — that shyster . . . 

Larabee. (Warning) Any attempt on your part 
to communicate with your criminal backer . . . 
(Sneering.) Mr. R. M. Taw . . . 

Bunker. (Springing up his eyes flash) Ram- 
tah . . . That settles it, it's a hold up. I — I won't 
sign. 

Larabee. (Apologetically rising, going to Bun- 
ker,) What — you have the — the audacity to . . . 

Bunker. (Stares pityingly at Larabee, then 
sniffs the air) You know, they quit putting per- 
fumery on their clothes right after the Chicago 
fire . . . (Takes up paper and slowly tears it up.) 

Pops. (Sneezing to cover the sudden guffaw.) 
Ha shaw — ha — ha — hooshaw . . . 

("Bunker takes up hat and stick and walks calmly 
to hall door as if to depart. Just then Julia 
screams off stage. Then her voice comes rap- 
idly nearer, raised in hysterical wrath and woe. 
Bunker falters back from door. Pops hob- 
bles rapidly to door, calling to LarabeeJ 

Pops. Quick, that's my wife, can't stand female 
fussin'. Can't stand anything more to-day. ("Lara- 
bee starts after him, but before they reach the den, 
enter the hysterical Julia, followed by Flapper, 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 89 
calm and Grandma the demon. Exit Larabee, 

L.2E.) 

Julia. (Wringing her hands) James, James, it's 
the end of the world, I tell you, the end of the world. 
(Confronting BunkerJ Oh, you villainous viper, 
oh . . . 

Flapper. (Firmly) Mops, you're just perfectly 
making an exhibition of yourself. 

Grandma. The child's right, she always is. 

(Enter at back from terrace Big Sister and the 
Waster with their rackets, they halt dead.) 

Clarence. More ructions. 

Big Sister. (Laughs) We're just in time for 
the first round. 

Pops. (Exploding) Great Godfrey — is this a mad 
house . . . 

Julia. Yes, yes, it is. (Wildly to Bunker.J 
You, you — toad, you. 

Pops. (Ruffling his hair) What's time's . . . 
(Twinge seises him.) Ouch, damn . . . 

Julia. (Weakly weeping) James, James, if you 
leave me, I shall sink right down on the floor and 
perish. 

Flapper. Oh, Mops. 

Julia. (To Flapper^ Oh, you unnatural child. 
(Tearfully.) And I'd just be — been — buying all a — 
a sort of th — things . . . 

Big Sister. (Scornfully) Mother, do speak up 
and be sensible — what is it? 

Grandma. For goodness gracious sakes, it's 
nothing at all. Marie's just told us that she and 
that young man there are engaged. (General out- 
cry of amazement and wrath and protest. Except 
from Waster and Big Sister, who burst out laugh- 



90 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

ing. Bunker grabs back of chair with both hands.) 
Gwen, Gwen, Clarence. 

Flapper. (Placing herself beside BunkerJ Do 
speak up, precious. Gwen's laughing at you . . . 

Bunker. (Stung by this, to FlapperJ She is, 
eh. Humph. I'll show her. (Draws himself up, 
goes to Pops and folds arms.) Mr. Breede, your 
daughter and I love each other. It— it came over 
us just like that — from the very first. I have the 
honor to ask you for her hand . . . 

Waster. Fine. 

Julia. (Wails, her voice rising to shriek) James, 
you — hear ? 

Grandma. (Patting Bunker on the back) Well 
done, young man. 

Pops. (Finding his voice at last, glaring at Bun- 
kerJ Haugh, think you can marry my daughter, eh. 
Damn nonsense. Come here, Marie. 

Flapper. Oh, Pops, don't fuss so. 

Pops. Fuss, me fuss. That's the limit. That 
settles it. (Up c. hobbles quickly to Flapper and 
grabs her by arm.) I'll teach \ou, young lady, who's 
boss in this family. Com'mon. (Starts with Flap- 
per to hall and meets Bunker face to face.) Get 
out a my way. Get out a my house. 

Bunker. (With a pitying smile) Gee, but you're 
a back number. Take a tip from me, sir, have your 
cufifs sewed on and fall into the procession. Don't 
you know women's come into her own and can do 
what she pleases? (Snatches suffrage badge from 
his coat and pins it on Pops. Julia shrieks and 
turns faint. Big Sister runs to support her.) 

Pops. Oh, indeed. (Threatened with apoplexy) 
Come with me, come to your room. I'll give you 
the talk of your life. (Dragging Flapper with him 
he charges at Bunker, who steps haughtily aside. 
The Flapper tries to hold back.) 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 91 

Grandma. (Blocking Breede's way to stairs) 
For goodness gracious sakes, Jim Breede, if you 
dare to lay a finger on that innocent child . . . 

Bunker. Oh, he wouldn't dare . . . 

Pops. Haugh. (Falls back step, thrusts Flap- 
per's hand into that of Mops.J Here, Julia, this 
is your business. You attend to her case . . . 
(Trots across to den.) 

Mops. (Besides herself, drags Marie to stairs, 
turns to BunkerJ No whipper-snapper of a clerk 
shall ever marry a child of mine. (Goes up with 
MarieJ 

Grandma. Julia. Julia. (Following her up.) 

Big Sister. Mother . . . (Following.) 

Pops. (At den door, to BunkerJ Get out of 
my house; no, take letter. Ugh, ouch. Damn. 
You're discharged . . . (Bolts into den, slamming 
door.) 

Waster. (Rise, mopping his eyes) I say, 
wouldn't have missed this for a million. You are 
a king. (Joins Bunker. ) Don't worry, old top, 
Marie's always got what she wants . . . 

Bunker. (Grandly) Worry, me worry. Why, 
there's nothing to it, old top. I don't know how 
to worry . . . 

Waster. Well, you certainly handed it to Pops. 
(House interphone rings — goes to phone.) Ha, 
news from the front. (Takes down receiver, lis- 
tens, chuckles.) They've locked the kid in her room, 
she wants to talk to you . . . (Hands receiver to 
BunkerJ 

Bunker. (At phone) Hello, Chubbins, sure, 
more'n ever — from the very first — what? (Listens 
excitedly.) Say that over again . . . (Listens.) 
Sure thing. You're on. G'by . . . (Hangs up re- 
-eiver, turns quickly) We're going to elope. 

Waster. What . . . 



92 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Bunker. Straight off. Grandma fixed it. Mops 
is having hysterics and Big Sister is with her. You've 
got to help us. 

Waster. Me? I say, that's going some. 

Bunker. No time to argue, see, Marie an' I'll give 
you half of all Pops settles on us after we've been 
married — and forgiven. Get that — half. 

Waster. No spoofing . . . (Grabs his hands.) 
Done. 

Bunker. Chase yourself. Grandma's letting 
Marie out, you get a car round, little old last year's 
car, see? I'll stick here till you are off an' keep 
Pops guessing — then I'll beat it alone. Meet me at 
my rooms, see? Chubbins knows . . . (Pushes 
him through window on run, takes up hat, quickly 
to den door and listens, then goes back cautiously to 
stairs. Grandma and Flapper, carrying bags, now 
come stealing down the stairs. Bunker with silence 
and caution conducts them to window.) 

Flapper. (At window) From the very first — 
sure as sure? 

Bunker. (Starts to kiss her) Just like that . . . 
(Enter Ernest from grounds r.c.) 

Grandma. (Seeing Ernest, to Bunker,) Look 
out . . . (Sounds of auto wheels on gravel, out- 
side.) 

Ernest. (Loudly) I say, Marie, what's the 
game ? Where you all off to ? ( Bunker and Flap- 
per signalling Ernest.,) Sh-sh. 

Bunker. (To Flapper and Grandma,) Beat it, 
double time. fMops and Big Sister appear on 
stairs, as they start down Grandma and Flapper 
vanish through window.) 

Ernest. (Calling, while Bunker makes wild 
signs to him) Marie — can't you answer a chap? 
Where you off to? 

Big Sister. (To MopsJ Marie . . . 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 93 

Mops. (To Big SisterJ Off . . . (Dashing down 
stairs, crying.) She's running away — James — James. 

Ernest. What — running away . . . 

Pops. (Emerging from den) Great Godfrey — 
what . . . (See Bunker, rises.) Think you can 
marry my daughter . . . 

Bunker. (At window) Think. With Ram-tah 
behind me — I know. (Sound of auto departing at 
high speed.) Ha, ha, good-bye, Pops. Marie's of 
age, and she has a perfect right to choose the father 
of her own children . „ . (Runs off at full speed. 
All start to follow.) 

QUICK CURTAIN 



ACT IV 

**'S little old last year's king" 

Time: Evening of same day, about seven o'clock. 

Darkness comes on gradually during first half 

of act. 
Scene: Bunker's apartment. An open, almost 

packed trunk stands r.c. 
Discovered : The Waster, hustling out of bedroom 

with clothes. He throws them down'by trunk. 

Then begins folding suits and feverishly pack- 

ing. Door bell rings. Waster looks worried, 

then goes cautiously to door. Barely opens it. 

Waster. (Softly trying to disguise his voice) 
Who's there? 

Greatest Pitcher. Bud Matthews • . . 

Waster. (With relief) Oh, come in, Mr. 
Matthews, come right in. (Throws open door, 
enter Greatest Pitcher. Waster shuts door quick- 
ly and follows him down.) 

Greatest Pitcher. (Glancing round in some 
surprise) You Mr. Clarence Breede? 

Breede. Yes. (Shake, with admiration.) I say, 
I never hoped to have the honor of meeting you, 
Mr. Matthews. 

Greatest Pitcher. (Shake) Don't mention it. 
Pleasure's all mine. (Quickly.) What's the dam- 
age in here. My friend Bean just 'phoned me — 
seemed to be cracking under the strain. Said, for 
God's sake meet him here at once, he'd be right up — 

94 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 95 

matter of life and death. Said I'd find you here and 
you'd put me hep. What's the idea. I've missed 
a swell feed right now, but I can't go back on a 
pal. 

Waster. (Excitedly) 'Course not. That's you 
all over. Fact is, Bunker's eloping with my sister. 

Greatest Pitcher. (All interest) Good boy. 
She's one great little girl. 

Waster. (Gasping) D'yer know Marie? 

Greatest Pitcher. Had lunch with her to-day. 

Waster. (Throwing clothes into trunk) Fine. 
The Guv'nor's wild, must be hot on their trail by this 
time. I've got 'em in hiding, just round the corner — 
Uganampus Hotel. (Lifts one tray of trunk.) 
Whew. It's an awful responsibility for a chap like 
me. 

Greatest Pitcher. Are they spliced yet? 

Waster. No. (Lifts second tray of trunk.) 
Hasn't been time. I just got 'em down to the Li- 
cense Bureau five minutes before it closed. Then 
I had to engage a stateroom for them on the Sunset 
Limited. She pulls out twelve, you know. Then 
we had to buy rings and wedding garments and all 
that . . . (Try to close lid of trunk.) 

Greatest Pitcher. Here, let me jump on its 
neck for you. (Springs on lid of trunk, Waster 
locks it,) 

Waster. Thanks, offly. 

Greatest Pitcher. (Jumping down) Strikes me 
you've missed the big trick. Get 'em spliced, my 
boy. Once that's done the old folks are buffaloed. 

Waster. (Telephone rings, turns pale) G-good 
Lord, I'll bet that's the Guv'nor. 

Greatest Pitcher. I'll fix him. (At phone, dis- 
guises voice.) Who is it? Who? Misther James 
Brade? No. Mr. Brine's not in — hasn't been here 
all day. Me, I'm the janitor. (Hang up.) 



96 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Waster. (Mopping his forehead) I say . . . 
(Door bell rings.) 

Greatest Pitcher. (Speaking at door) Who's 
there ? 

Bulger. (Outside) Ask me — ask me. 

Bunker. (Outside) Oh, it's all right. ('Great- 
est Pitcher opens door l.c. Enter Bunker, fol- 
lowed by Bulger, both carrying parcels. Bunker 
is on tiptoe with excitement. Piling his parcels into 
Bulger's arms.) Lay these on my bed, Max. (To 
the others.) Wedding garments. Max has been 
shopping for me, I 'phoned him to meet me here. 
Bud, I've got a confession to make to you . . . 

Greatest Pitcher. So you told me this morn- 
ing. (Step back.) Now see here, Mr. Bean, if it's 
another girl you've been mixed up with, or anything 
shady, not for mine. 

Bunker. (Earnestly) It isn't, Bud, honest. I've 
always led a blameless life, that was the trouble 
with me, too damn blameless, 'fraid to smoke, or 
drink. 'Fraid to wear regular clothes, 'fraid to 
speak to a policeman. Why, a month ago, I was 
nobody, see. Just Bunker Bean, a wage slave at 
ten per. Then all of a sudden, something came over 
me — just like that — and things have been speeding 
my way ever since. Why, there's nothing to it. 
Money, friends, the Flapper, Bud, I just have to 
sit round and let Ram-tah hand 'em to me. 

Greatest Pitcher. Let who hand 'em to you? 

Bunker. Ram-tah, that's what I want to ask you 
— to take care of Ram-tah for me. (Solemnly.) 
Bud, if anything ever happens to Ram-tah, it'd be 
all over with little Napoleon W. — me. 

Greatest Pitcher. (Cautiously) What is he, 
a snake — I can't stand for snakes . . . 

Bunker. Snakes nothing, Bud — he's a mummy. 

Greatest Pitcher. What? 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 97 

Bunker. An Egyptian mummy, Ram-tah, a man 
of vast power but no violence. Wise and good, the 
last king of the Pre-Dynastic Era . . . (Crosses to 
closet door.) Come here. (Listens an instant, then 
takes key from pocket.) 

Greatest Pitcher. (Joining BunkerJ What 
th' hell can I do with a mummy. I've got no faith 
in mascots anyway. Most of my pals fall for 'em, 
but I say they're bunk. 

Bunker. (Seriously) You don't get me, Bud; 
this isn't just a mummy, it's a — a special mummy. 
Bud, it's me. 

Greatest Pitcher. What — I . . . 

Bunker. I was Ram-tah. My first incarnation, 
Bud, fact. I ruled a peaceful realm. Peopled by 
contented subjects, of course, I was brave and all 
that, but I very properly detested all violence. My 
palace on the Nile was magnificent . . . 

Greatest Pitcher. (Shaking his head) You 
poor nut, who handed you all this . . . 

Bunker. The greatest astrologer in the world. 

Greatest Pitcher. Balthazar — why, kid, that 
old fakir . . . 

Bunker. (Sadly interrupting) You haven't seen 
the light, Bud, that's all. (Slight noises off in bed- 
room.) Bud, there's no time to waste, you won't 
go back on me, Bud ? All I ask you to do is to keep 
this key for me till I get home. It'll spoil the whole 
trip if . . . 

Greatest Pitcher. (Good naturedly) All right, 
Mr. Bean. I guess it won't hurt me to stick that 
key in my jeans. Let's have a flash at the poor old 
gink. 

f Bunker listens again, then unlocks closet door and 
opens it. The automatic light switches on and 

as the room is nozv almost dark it illuminates 



98 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

the shallow closet brightly. The headless trunk 
of Ram-tah is disclosed, with tuft of excelsior 
sticking up through its neck. The head of the 
monarch lies on the closet floor. Bunker gives 
a quavering cry.) 

Bunker. (Hoarsely) Pull down the shades. 
Lights. (Greatest Pitcher sensing a tragedy, 
obeys, pulls down shades. Turns up the lights. 
Meanwhile Bunker drags the trunk and head of 
Ram-tah from closet down to c. table. The Waster 
and Bulger burst out from bedroom R.2E. Pulling 
at the excelsior wildly.) Wh — hat's that? 

Greatest Pitcher. (Smiling) Excelsior, bo, 
your mummy's a fake . . . 

Bunker. (Wildly) No, no, it can't be. It 
mustn't be. I got it from Balthazar. I . . . 

Bulger Balthazar, huh? (Hurrying forward, 
sneering, pulls handful of excelsior from trunk.) 
Mean you let that old fakir sell you a bunch of 
breakfast food like this . . . (Roars.) 

Bunker. (Strangling) Oh, I might have known, 
I might have known this would happen to me — 
Bunker Bean. (Raves about room.) It's my name 
— iPs my name. I tell you, "Bunker Bean" — Egyp- 
tian king, nice and good. Ha, ha. (Laughs wildly 
and then almost sobs.) It's all over, fellows. I'm 
nobody, just an upstart. I never was a king — I 
never will be — never, never. I'm done for — 
through — finished. I'm a joke. Always have been. 
And everybody sees the point but me . . . 

Bulger. And all over a bum mummy . . . 

Waster. Well, that's the funniest thing I ever 
saw . . . 

Bunker. Clear out, can't you. Leave me alone. 
Oh, I wish I'd never been born. I wish to God I 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 99 

was dead. (Collapses in chair, doubles up limply, 
head hanging between his knees.) 

Greatest Pitcher. (To Bulger, who is still 
crowing with delight) Cut out the joy, see — poor 
kid, he's all in. ^Bulger retires.) 

Waster. (Entirely at sea) I — I say, what — is 
it? 

Greatest Pitcher. (Faking charge) What's the 
odds, we've got to pull him around and get him 
spliced somehow, that's our job — say . . . (To 
Waster.J You get a parson on the jump, and 
bring him here with Miss Marie understand . . . 

Waster. Parson on the jump. (Grab hat.) Whew. 
This responsibility's fierce for a chap like me. (Bolts 
through hall l.c. slamming door.) 

Greatest Pitcher. (Grabbing Bunker's shoul- 
der, pulling his head up between his knees) Now, 
kid, cut out the sob stuff. You got to come back 
and pile into the game with a wallop. Get me. 
What th . . . Don't you realize its up to you to pull 
the kinks out of your spine, so you can face the par- 
son and take your punishment like a regular man. 
(Shakes him.) For the love of Mike, quit imitatin' a 
sick rabbit. 

Bunker. It's no use, I tell you, Bud. I'm done 
for, it's all over . . . 

Greatest Pitcher. All over, hell. It ain't even 
begun yet. Wake up, you've got to be married in 
about five minutes. 

Bunker. (Scared to death) No, no, I — I can't 
go through with it. I'm nobody at all — nobody at 
all. Just Bunker Bean, just an upstart . . . (Plead- 
ing.) Bud, old man, you tell Marie, I'm not fit to 
marry her, or anybody. All I want is, just to be — 
left alone. (His teeth chatter.) 

Greatest Pitcher. (To Bulger ) Say, he needs 



ioo HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

a bracer. Go down and ask Cassidy for a pint. 
Hurry up. 

Bulger. Sure I will. (Goes and exits L.cJ 

Greatest Pitcher. (Severely) Now, kid, I'm 
goin' to the bottom a this. You listen to me. 

Bunker. It's no good, goo'by, Bud, ol' man, 
you'd — don't understand. 

Greatest Pitcher. Maybe not, and maybe yes. 
See here, kid, I'm dead on to you. I've got your 
number registered, why, you're not so different — 
there's lots of ginks in this world who never climb 
into the Big League, an' why not. Because they 
don't believe in themselves. That's all. ("Bunker 
shakes his head, bat looks up> timidly.) D'you think 
I'd be where I am if I'd gone around lookin' for a 
mascot to boost me. You take it from me, kid, life 
don't go by mascots, or Jonahs either. A man's 
gotta be his own mascot. Infield or out. That's 
right. Why, a man can be anything he wants to 
be if he only wants it hard enough. If a man wants 
to pitch better ball than me, he's only got to want 
to harder than I do. Then he will — if a man wants 
to be a king, he'll be a king. 

Bunker. (Startled) Wh — what? 

Greatest Pitcher. Sure he will. That's good 
dope, bo. Why, look at Napoleon. 

Bunker. (Straighten up a little) Bud — d'ye hon- 
estly mean . . . (Re-enter Bulger hastily from 
l.c. with a pint bottle of gin.) 

Greatest Pitcher. (Seising bottle and uncork- 
ing it) Here, kid, I'm not strong for this booze 
thing myself, but there are times . . . (Forces bot- 
tle into Bunker's hand.) 

Bulger. (Grinning) Gwan — tip your nose back, 
let her slide an' forget your troubles. 

Bunker. (Hesitates) Wh — whiskey . . . 

Bulger. No, nothing like it. It's only gin . . . 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 101 

Bunker. Oh, is that all. Well, I never tasted 
anything like that before. (Takes long drink, then 
coughs and gasps.) Gee, ough — plenty strong enough 
for me. Balla fire. (Straighten up.) Bud, d'ye 
honestly mean that — what you said, about being a 
king. 

Greatest Pitcher. Sure, on the level, kid. Have 
another swig — an* you may believe me. 

Bunker. (Brightening up a little) Well, do — you 
ought to know. (Drinks.) Augh, naugh, greates* 
lef han' pitcher in the world. He oughta know, 
eh, Max. 

Bulger. Ask me. Ask me. 

Bunker. (Rises and puts down bottle on table) 
Say, Max, Bud says no such thing's mascots. Bud 
says man's gotta be 's own mascot, greates' lef Mian' 
pitcher'n world oughta know, eh, Max? 

Greatest Pitcher. (Lays hand on Bunker's 
shoulder) Why, take your own case. Haven't you 
been making good? Sure, d'ye think that fake 
mummy stuffed with hay's been bossin' you? No, 
you've been bossin' yourself. Keep up the good 
work, kid, that's all. Why, you're safe for a pinch 
hit, every day. 

Bunker. (With sudden elation) Awry, then. 
Bud oughta know. Greatest lef'-han' . . . Bud, ol' 
man, I'll be a king if you say so. Lil' ol' George W. 
Bunker Baseball King, why not. Who's goin' to 
stop me, that's all. (Solemnly.) Bud, s' all come 
over me, jus' like that. Ram-tah, s' nothing less 
con'squench, man's own mascot. Bud . . . (Seizes 
pitcher's hands and shakes them violently.) You — 
you don't know what you've done for me. (Door 
bell rings.) 

Greatest Pitcher. Steady, kid, cock your chin 
up. The big show's on. 



102 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

(Bulger meanwhile opens door, enter Grandma 
and the Flapper, followed by Waster and 
Very Young Minister. Bulger slips off to 
hall and shuts the door, and in general excite- 
ment is not immediately missed. Pitcher has 
been straightening Bunker's tie and smoothing 
his hair as they all come in.) 

Bunker. (Soaring) H'lo, Chubbins, s'all ri', 
the big show's on. How are you, Grandma. Got 
the ring, Clarence. (To Very Young Minister.^ 
How're you, sir. Shake hands with m' friend. Bud 
Matthews here — greatest left-hand . . . 

Flapper. (Seeing head of Ram-tah, on floor, 
jumps, drops Nap from her arms) Ah . . . 

Bunker. (Following her gaze) 'S — all — ri' — 
Marie — don't let that 'sturb you — nothin' less con- 
se' . . . 

Grandma. (Sharply) Young man, you've been 
drinking . . . 

Bunker. Only gin. 

Greatest Pitcher. (Quickly) My fault, madam, 
my mistake. (To Very Young Minister.^ M' 
friend Bean's been under a great nervous strain, 
your rev'rence, just gave him a little bracer, you 
know . . . 

Very Young Minister. (Nervously) Yes, yes, 
yes, quite so, I see, I see. Oh, dear yes . . . 

Flapper. (Links arm in Bunker's, giving his 
arm an affectionate squeeze) Bunker's perfectly got 
a right to do as he pleases, anyway. (To Minis- 
ter/) I did want to be married in that little old 
church round the corner, but I suppose you can do it 
all right. Is there room enough. Where shall we 
stand? (Placing herself and Bunker before bed- 
room door.) Over here, who's going to give me 
away — Granny or Clarence. (To MinisterJ This 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 103 

is a very serious step I'm taking, and I hope you 
understand all about it. Because you just perfectly 
look as young as Bunker. Have you ever married 
anyone before? 

Very Young Minister. (Stammering) Well, 
since you ask me, that is to say . . . No, I never 
have. (Quickly.) But it's all right, really. 

Bunker. Are you sure you can do it thoroughly ? 

Very Young Minister. Everyone has to begin 
sometime . . . (Produce prayer book.) And it's 
all down in black and white anyway. 

Greatest Pitcher. (Reassuringly) That's right, 
Miss Breede, he can't go far wrong. And if you'll 
take a tip from me, you won't waste any time . . . 

Grandma. (Snorting) That's the first sensible 
remark I've heard. 

Bunker. Same here, we've got to make that lit- 
tle old Pullman somehow, let her go, professor. 

Very Young Minister. I — I'll do my best . . . 
(Opens prayer book.) Dearly beloved . . . 

Bunker. (Breaking in) Wait a mo' . . . Where's 
Max. Can't be married without m' friend Max. 

Very Young Minister. Really, Mr. Bean, you — 
you mustn't interrupt me once I've begun . . . 

Flapper. You perfectly mustn't, Bunker. 

Bunker. AwVi, sorry, fire away. 

Very Young Minister. Dearly beloved — we are 
gathered together in the sight of . . . (Sudden 
angry voices off, from hallway, enter Bulger. ) 

Bulger. (In a horrified whisper) Pops — I say 
— beat it, everybody. 

Greatest Pitcher. (To Waster,) I told you go 
get 'em spliced, here . . . (Throws bedroom 
door open.) Chase yourselves. On the jump now. 
Your reverence. 

Pops. (Off stage l.c.J Which door did you say ? 

Cassidy. This door, sir. 



104 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

(Titcher hustles distracted wedding party into bed- 
room, shuts door on them, and sets his back 
against it, just as Cassidy half reaches over, 
gets hall door open and lurches in, still cling- 
ing to pass key. Enter after him, Pops, Julia, 
Bulger, Big Sister and Ernest. They find 
themselves confronted by Greatest Pitcher, 
who calmly folds his arms.) 

Pops. Who'n 'ell are you. Where's my daugh- 
ter? 

Greatest Pitcher. (Smiling serenely) Good 
evening, Miss Breede, I was wondering when I'd see 
you again. Didn't hope for such luck as this. 

Pops. (Shaking fist under Pitcher's nose) My 
daughter is in that room behind you. 

Greatest Pitcher. Are you Mr. Breede, Mr. 
James Breede ; honored to meet you, sir. 

Pops. Haugh. 

Julia. James, Mr. Bulger, Ernest .... (Wring- 
ing her hands.) Who is this impossible person. 
Throw his out. 

Big Sister. (With a sudden strange little laugh) 
Yes, Ernie, why don't you throw him out. You ac- 
cused me of flirting with Mr. Matthews. 

Ernest. I say — are you going to get mussy again ? 

Big Sister. I'm never going to speak to you again, 
Ernie, unless you do something right away. ("Ernest 
shrinks back.) 

Greatest Pitcher. (Excitedly) What, Miss 
Breede, d'you mean that . . . 

Big Sister. (Smiting into Pitcher's eyes) In- 
deed I do, Mr. Matthews. I'll never marry a man 
who hasn't at least as much nerve as you have. 
Well, Ernie . . . 

Greatest Pitcher. Well, Mr. Whepple . . . 




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HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 105 

Ernest. I say, I'm sick of being made a fool of — 
I'm off . . . 

Big Sister. (Tossing ring to him) Take your 
ring with you, Ernie . . . 

Julia. Gwen . . . Are you mad ? 

Ernest. I say, Gwen. (Picks up ring,) You're 
spoofing, aren't you? 

Julia. Of course. 

Big Sister. Ati I. 

Ernest. (Looks from Pitcher to Big Sister, 
then slams on his hat) Oh, damn. (Exits L.cJ 

Julia. Gwen. 

Greatest Pitcher. I guess we're all a little mad 
to-night, Mrs. Breede; y'see, your daughter and I 
fell in love to-day at first sight . . . (Big Sister 
gives a little shriek.) 

Pops. Gr-eat Godfrey. Gwen, is 'at right? 

Big Sister. (Suddenly places herself beside 
to Greatest Pitcher and takes his arm) Yes, Pops, 
dear, I guess Mr. Matthews is right. (Pops rushes 
to Greatest Pitcher, but suddenly stops dead.) 

Pops. Mr. Matthews, say, why you — you must 
be — are you? 

Greatest Pitcher. Yes, sir, I am. 

Pops. (Seizes the free hands of Big Sister and 
Greatest Pitcher,) It's all right, Julia. Stop fuss- 
in'. Why, Gwen's done us proud this time. Mr. 
Matthews is the greatest left-handed pitcher the 
world's ever known. 

Greatest Pitcher. Thank you, sir. 

Pops. Thank you. You, too, Gwen. I never did 
like that Lizzie boy. 

(A sudden jubiliant noise from off bedroom. Great- 
est Pitcher and Big Sister step quickly aside. 
Bedroom door flung open. Re-enter Bunker 
with the Flapper clinging to his arm, and fol- 



io6 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

lowed by Grandma, Young Minister and the 
Waster, who is singing the wedding march. 
Curtain warning.^ 

Bunker. (Glorious again) How are you, Pops? 
Greetings, Mops. (Goes to Julia and kisses her.) 
Well, it's O. K., everybody, we're spliced. Marie 
Breede is now Mrs. B. Bean. 

Julia. (Tragic) Married . . . (Suddenly Pops 
guffaws with laughter.) 

Pops. Now, mother, stop fussin', I guess our girls 
have captured the two liveliest wires in New York. 
Why, young Bunker Bean here's just turned a busi- 
ness deal on me — me. Know how much you'll make. 

Bunker. Slightest idea . . . 

Pops. I — stock'll be up to six hundred before 
week's out. Net you round four hundred thousand. 

Julia. (Cheering visibly) Four hundred thous- 
and — Gwen . . . 

Bunker. Four hundred thousand — margins . . . 

Pops. Dollars, dammit, dollars. Take y' into 
partnership to-morrow. (Turns to Greatest 
Pitcher.,) You boys and me'll control everything 
before we're through. Including the Big League. 
(Stumbles over prostrate form of Ram-tah.) Gr-reat 
Godfrey, what's that? 

Bunker. That's Ram-tah. 

Flapper. (Jumping) Oh, Bunker dear, I per- 
fectly meant to tell you. I broke that mummy thing 
this afternoon. 

Bunker. You . . . Oh, what's the odds, Marie, 
nothing less consequence. 'S little o' last year's 
king. (As curtain is coming down kisses Marie. J 
C'mon. C'mon everybody, and kiss the bride. (All 
congratulate the bride.) 

CURTAIN 



PROPERTY PLOTS 

SCENE: BROKER'S OFFICE 

Act I. 

1 brown ground cloth down all through. 

(Mahogany furniture.) 
Large flat-top desk. 
Large roll-top desk. 

Swivel chair, arm. 

Single armchairs, 2. 

Large armchairs, 2. 
Stock ticker. 

Small stand, 15 inches high. 
Letter filing cabinet. 

2 steam radiators (wood painted gilt). 

1 large oil painting portrait on scene at c. 

1 picture over door l. 

1 silver water pitcher and tray and glass on small 

table c. 
1 revolving bookcase with drop shelf at c, books 

on same. 

1 law book. 

2 law books. 

1 silver tray containing lunch. Apple on saucer, 
glass of milk on saucer, hygenic biscuits on 
small plate. 

On Flat-top Desk 

4 wire baskets, letters and office stationery. 

107 






108 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

i large check book. 

i large desk blotting pad. 

1 brass desk set, inkstand, penholder, letter holder, 

calendar, match safe, pens, pencils and letter 
knife. 
3 Pittsburgh stogies for Pops. 

3 stenographers' notebooks. 

On Roll-top Desk 

Desk littered with letters, papers, books, etc. 
Check book in drawer of desk. 
Loose bonds on desk. 

4 waste-paper baskets. 

On Portable Table r.i.e. 

Portable typewriter. 

Stocks, bonds, letters, paper, etc. 

Letter addressed to Bunker, containing check, etc. 

Large book for Bunker. 

Stenographers' notebooks, pencil, etc. 

Letters and bonds and telegrams for Pops. 

Lady's walking stick for Grandma. 

Vanity case for Flapper. 

Act II. Scene I. 

Oriental Decorations 

Imitation teakwood table, 28x40 in. 

2 armchairs, Chinese scoop chairs, carved and inlaid. 
2 bench settees. 

10 sofa pillows — odd Oriental design. 

Large chart to hang on wall at R., signs of Zodaic, 

phrenological chart to hang on wall c. 
2 Oriental draperies, to hang on wall r. and l. back 

of settees. 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 109 
On Table c. 

I large book, "Glimpse Through Time." 

1 red blotting pad. Match stand and matches. 

Deck of playing cards. 

Inkstand, pen, two pencils, 2 small writing pads. 

Large writing pad: 

Crystal globe. 

Side Prop 

Large black silk handkerchief for countess. 
Receipt book, pocket size, for Balthazar. 
Letter for Bulger. (Same as in Act I.) 
Cigarette for countess, typewriter letter for countess. 
Small tray with 2 bottles of beer and 2 glasses ready 

off c. for Mira to bring in. 
1 large green medallion. 
Small green rug. 
Tinkle door bell. 

Scene II. 

Bunker's Apartment 

1 large green medallion. 

2 large green rugs. 

Draperies on alcove about fireplace l. 
Draperies on window l.c. 
Dark roller shade on window. 
Lace sash curtains on window. 
Mantelpiece at l. Fire dogs and fender. 

3 great brass jardinieres. 

1 clock, 2 brass vases, 2 bronze pitchers, 1 tall glass 
vase with flowers and photograph of Bud 
Matthews on mantel. 

Small round table down l. Victrola on same. 



no HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Books on table with phonograph. 

Small Victrola record, "Magic Melody Fox Trot." 

Mahogany parlor table at window l.c. 

White lace lambrequin and Chinese vase with flow- 
ers on table. 

Mahogany stool 18 in. at l. of table. 

i mahogany straight chair at R. of table. 

2 mahogany book racks with books on wall r. and L. 
on back flat. 

2 pictures Egyptian ruins over each book rack. 

2 large over-stuffed armchairs, one at r., one at 
L., under book racks. 

Large sofa pillow on armchair l. 

i large over-stuffed divan down l. 

Large sofa pillow on divan. 

Console table, semi-circle, at r. end of divan. 
Lace doilies on same. Telephone, humidor 
with cigars, 2 books, match stand and matches 
on console table. 

Large mahogany armchair back of table l.c. 

Small mahogany straight chair at r. of console 
table. 

Mahogany writing table at r. against flat. 

Books and writing material on table, 3 brass orna- 
ments on same. 

Library lamp on table, see electrician's plot. 

Small mahogany straight chair at writing table. 

Mahogany buffet sideboard at c. against flat. 

On Sideboard 

1 white scarf. 

2 candlesticks with candles. 

1 large silver vase with flowers. 

2 small silver fern dishes. 
1 fern dish with pansies. 

1 silver sugar bowl. 






HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN in 

I silver cream pitcher. 

I silver teapot. 

4 odd pieces of silverware. 

1 photo in silver frame. 

Picture of Napoleon on wall over writing table. 
Egyptian mummy in mummy case, packed in large 

packing case, locked with padlock, to be 

brought on by two men. 
Duplicate mummy with breakaway head and stuffed 

with excelsior, to be placed in closet at l.c.u. 

Side Props 

Fountain pen for Bud Matthews. 
Fountain pen for Bunker Bean. 
Checkbook for Bunker Bean, also stage money. 
Woman's suffrage badge for Bunker Bean. 
Large dress suit case ready off r.ie. for Bunker 
Bean. 

Act III. 

Pops' Summer Home 

Large medallion, Oriental design, dark red in col- 
oring. 

Dark red carpeting on stairs. 

Draperies of dark striped silk, toning to mulberry 
at arches l. below stairs and r. below bow 
windows. 

Lace curtains at window both at bow window and 
at window over stairs. 

Mantelpiece at r., banked with flowers. 

On mantelpiece, 2 silver candelabras and candles and 
fancy clock. 

2 cabinets painted ivory to match wicker furniture. 
2 fancy wicker vases with flowers for top of cabinets. 



ii2 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 
Wicker Furniture 

Large divan. 
Single chairs. 
Small chair. 
Small stool. 
Large armchair. 
Small seat without back. 
Small wicker table, 2x2. 
2 wicker table lamps. 
Wicker table. 
Wicker pedestal. 
Wicker flower basket for same. 
Wicker table, round top. 

2 window seats with fancy cushion tops for bow 
window. 

1 alcove seat with fancy cushion tops for under 

stairs. 

2 pink sofa pillows. 

2 black satin sofa pillows. 

1 large round sofa pillow black and white stripes. 

1 small round sofa pillow black and white stripes. 

1 large brass fern bowl, with ferns. 

On table at l., desk blotting pad, pen, ink, pencil 

and paper. 
On divan at R., magazine. 
On table at r. of divan, match stand and matches 

and ash tray. 
On round table up c. match stand and matches. 

Side Props 

Gold fountain pen for Larabee. 

Ordinary fountain pen for Pops. 

Check book for Bunker Bean. 

Fountain pen for Bunker Bean and notebooks, etc. 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 113 

Stage money for Bunker Bean and woman suffrage 

badge. 
Cigarette case, cigarettes and match safe with 

matches for Grandma. 
Letters, two written in long hand, for Pops. 
Small dress suit case ready for Louis off stage r. 
1 small dress suit, case and 1 small grip ready head 

of stairs L. 
Automobile effect ready off stage at r. See Elec. 

plot. 
Interroom telephone on arch casing. See Elec. plot. 
Walking stick for Pops. 

Act IV. 

Same as Scene II. Act II. 

Small steamer trunk packed with men's clothing. 
Engagement ring for Big Sister. 
Wedding ring for Flapper, also shower bouquet. 
Half pint flask gin for Bulger — clear, cold water. 
5 new packages, supposed to be clothing and the like. 

1 package supposed to be flowers. 
Duplicate mummy. 
Miscellaneous props for use off stage. 

2 kitchen tables. 
8 kitchen chairs. 
Small stand. 
Mirror, 18x24. 

12 foot step ladder. 
Large clothes basket. 
Large carpet sweeper. 

Electrical Plots 

Act IT. 
Foot lights, white and amber, full up. 



ii4 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 

Border lights, white and amber, first and fourth full 
up. 

Bunch lights, I nitro lamp, light straw back of win- 
dow l. ; i nitro lamp, light straw back of win- 
dow r. ; i amber bunch light back of double 
doors l.c. 

Strip lights, 6 light strip at door l. ; 5 light strip at 
door r. 

Lights stand throughout act. 

Act II. Scene I. 

Foot lights, amber one circuit to work on cue. 

Reflector, 2 16-candlepower frosted lamps placed 6 
inches apart in c. of foot lights to work on cue. 

Art lanterns, 8 candlepower lamps in same (4) on 
scene to work on cue. 

Crystal globe, 1 red and 1 white lamp in same. On 
scene to work on cue. 

Strip lights, 1 single light red back of door c. ; 1 
single light red signal light to switchboard. 

Small switch oft r. to work globe reflectors and lan- 
terns. 

One circuit of amber footlights only is used. These 
go on and off at cue. In addition to amber 
footlights there are two small reflectors placed 
six feet apart in center of stage, so that when 
footlights are out there two reflectors are on, 
so light used as if coming from circular globe, 
which is on table in center of stage. Bear 
in mind, circular globe must contain two 
lamps — one red and one white. These are 
controlled off stage by separate switches, so 
that they may be used one at a time. 

When Mira, the maid, darkens the room, at be- 
ginning of scene, footlights are out, ' and 
brackets go out and circular globe with white 



HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 115 

light, and two reflectors in footlights are on. 
The lights remain so placed during scene un- 
til Bulger and countess exit. When lights 
again change and by Balthazar; then re- 
suming same form which they had at begin- 
ning of scene. They remain in this form un- 
til curtain. The curtain is then dropped for 
two minutes to make change to Scene II. 
The lights in Scene II are amber and white, foots 
and borders fuller. 

Scene II. 

Foot lights, white and amber, full up. 

Border lights, white and amber, full up. 

Bunch lights, 2 amber, one R., one l. back of door 

l.c, 1 amber back of window l. 
Strip light, 1 amber, 6 light strip at door r. 
Bracket 4 three way, blue shades practical, but not lit. 
Table lamp, 1 practical on table r.c. not lit. 
Telephone, practical, on stage c. off stage at r.c 

Act III. 

Foots, white and amber, up full. 

Borders, white and amber first and fourth, up full. 

Bunches, 2 light straw back of window l.c, 2 nitro 
lamps, light straw, R. and l. back of bow 
window. 

Strips, 1 amber back of door l., 2 amber back of 
arch over stairs l.c 

Brackets, 4 three way brackets mulberry shades, not 
light. 

Chandelier, 1 inverted opalescent light in bow win- 
dow 1 not lit. 

Telephone, I interroom phone, practical, on arch r.c 



n6 HIS MAJESTY BUNKER BEAN 
Auto horn, ready for cue, off stage at R. 
Act IV. 
Same as Act II. Scene II. 
Foots, borders and brackets to work on cue, 



BrLLETED. 

A comedy in 3 acts, by F. Tennison Jesse and H. Harwood. 4 
saales, 5 females. One easy interior scen^. A charming comedy, 
constructed with uncommon skill, and abounds with clever lines. 
Margaret Anglin's big success. Amateurs will find this comedy easy 
to produce and popular with all audiences. Price, 60 Cents. 

NOTHING BUT THE TRUTH. 

A comedy in 3 acts. By James Montgomery. 5 males, 6 females. 
Costumes, modern. Two interior scenes. Plays 2% hours. 

Is it possible to tell the absolute truth — even for twenty-four hours? 
It is— at least Bob Bennett, the hero of "Nothing But the Truth," 
accomplished the feat. The bet he made with his business partners, 
and the trouble he got into — with his partners, his friends, and his 
fiancee — this is the subject of William Collier's tremendous comedy 
hit. "Nothing But the Truth" can be whole-heartedly recommended 
as one of the most sprightly, amusing and popular comedies that this 
country can boast. Price, 60 Cents. 

IN WALKED JIMMY. 

A comedy in 4 acts, by Minnie Z. Jaffa. 10 males, 2 females (al- 
though any number of males and females may be used as clerks, 
etc,). Two interior scenes. Costumes, modern. Plays 2*/ 2 hours. 
The thing into which Jimmy walked was a broken-down shoe factory, 
when the clerks had all been fired, and when the proprietor was in 
serious contemplation of suicide. 

Jimmy, nothing else but plain Jimmy, would have been a mysterious 
figurr had it not been for his matter-of-fact manner, his smile and 
his everlasting humanness. He put the shoe business on rts # feet, won 
the heart of the girl clerk, saved her erring brother from jail, escaped 
that place as a permanent boarding house himself, and foiled the 
villain. 

Clean, wholesome comedy with just a touch of human nature, just 
a dash of excitement t and more than a little bit of true philosophy 
make "In Walked Jimmy" one cf the most delightful of plays. 
Jimmy is full of the religion of life, the religion of happiness and 
the religion of helpfulness, and he so permeates the atmosphere with 
his "religion" that everyone is happy. The spirit of optimism, good 
cheer, and hearty laughter dominates the play. There is not a dull 
moment in any of the four acts. We strongly recommend it. 

Price, 60 Cents. 

MARTHA BY-THE-DAY. 

An optimistic comedy in three acts, by Julie M. Lippmann, author 
of the "Martha" stories. 5 males, 5 females. Three interior scenes. 
Costumes modern. Plays 2 1 /' t hours. 

It is altogether a gentle thxiig, this play. It is full of quaint hu- 
mor, old-fashioned homely sentiment, the kind that people who see 
the play will recall and chuckle over to-morrow and the next day. 

Miss Lippmann has herself adapted her very successful book for 
stage service, and in doing this has selected from her novel the most 
telling incidents, infectious comedy and homely sentiment for the 
play, and the result is thoroughly delightful. Price, 60 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 Wc*t 38th Street, New York City 

New and Explicit Descriptive Catalogue Mailed Free on Request 



LBF 






'HE REJUVENATION OF AUNT MARY. 

The famous corned/ in three acts, by Anne Warner. 7 males 6 
females. Three interior scenes. Costumes modern. Plays 2% hoars. 

This is a genuinely funny comedy with splendid parts for "Aunt 
Mary," "Jack." her lively nephew; "Luanda," a New England an- 
cient maid of all work; ''Tack's" three chums; the Girl "Jack" lores: 
"Joshua," Aunt Mary's bleed man, etc. 

"Aunt Mary" was played by May Robson in New York and on tour 
for over two years, and H is sure to be a biff success wherever pro- 
duced. We strongly recommend it. Price, 60 Cents. 

MRS. BUMSTEAD-LEIGH. 

•Ji *SP3P* IP^X], in M three act , 8 ' h l 9**^ J anie » Smith, anther of 
•The Tailor-Made Man." 6 males, 6 females. One interior scene 
Costumes modern. Plays 2tf hours. 

Mr. Smith chose for his initial comedy the complications arising 
from the endeavors of a social climber to land herself in the altitude 
peopled by hyphenated names — a theme permitting innumerable com- 
plications, according to the spirit of the writer. 

This most successful comedy was toured for several seasons by Mrs. 
Fiske with enormous success. Price, 60 Cents. 

MRS. TEMPLE'S TELEGRAM. 

A most successful farce in three acts, by Frank Wyatt and WS- 
liam Morris, 5 males, 4 females. One interior scene stands through 
out the three acts. Costumes modern. Plays 2% hours. 

"Mrs. Temple's Telegram" is a sprightly farce in which there in 
an abundance of fun without any taint of impropriety or any ele- 
ment of offence. As noticed by Sir Walter Scott, "Oh. what a 
tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive." 

There is not a dull moment in the entire farce, and from the time 
the, curtain rises until it makes the final drop the fun is fast and 
furious. A rtxj exceptional farce. Price, 60 Cents. 

THE NEW CO-ED. 

• A &**$* in f 5H r lcta * b * Marie D orsm, author of 'Tempest and 
Sunshine, etc. Characters, 4 males, 7 females, though any number 
of boy • and girls can be introduced in the action of the play. One 
anterior and one exterior scene, but can be easily played in one into- 
nes- scene. Costumes modern. Time, about 2 hours. 
^The theme %d this play is the coming of a new student to the col- 
lege, ner reception by the scholars, her trials and final triumph. 
»J7 erC v* re v three . "P^ally good girls' parts, Lctty, Madge and 
5* tcBe »tE lt l the oth ?f i havc P ,ent y to do. "Punch" Doolittle and 
tjeorge Washington Watts, a gentleman of color, are two particularly 
JP°4.iS onie< i* characters. We can strongly recommend "The New 
Co-Ed to high schools and amateurs. Price, 30 Cents. 

(The Above Are Subject to Royalty When Produced) 
SAMUEL FRENCH, 28-30 West Jetfc Street, Nsw York Gtty 

*w and Elicit Descrtprin Catatofw MtM Frtt •■ Htm* 



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